Flight of the Bumblebee
by Amaya Natsuya
Summary: HP crossover. Contains yaoi. By accident or fate, Trowa discovers he still has family on earth. When he arrives at the Dursleys, he meets nine-year-old Harry Potter. Trowa wanted nothing to do with his family, but will Harry convince him to stay?
1. Unknown

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part One  
Unknown

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing or Harry Potter. If I did, not only would I be rich, I would have have very, very different plots.

**Warnings:** This story does contain shounen ai/yaoi. I don't write smut, so it'll never go that far, but there will be kissing, hand-holding, making-out, etc. There are also implied scenes that I haven't written. If this bothers you, Don't. Read. It.

**Pairings:** 1x2 3x4 5x6. Some days I screw around with the numbers. Honestly, it makes no difference in who they're dating.

**Author's Note:** I was hesitent to start this story, because I've not really seen one like it and the plot bunny was a bitch, but I actually liked what I got. I want to thank Dentelle-Noir and Jess-Eklom for all their amazing help. They've listened to me whine about this story for_months_. I do have more than two chapters done, but I'm only posting the first two to see how people respond. I hope it's well received. Please remember to review and tell me if you liked it or not, and if there's any typos left. I need them pointed out so I can go fix them.

Enjoy the first chapter of my latest story!  
**oOooOo**

Sixteen year old Trowa Barton glanced at his more-than-incredulous boyfriend, then back to Sally Po. She shrugged at him, as though to let him know it wasn't her idea to have his DNA tested for possible matches between the earth and the colonies. Since the last war, it had been mandatory for people to have their DNA catalogued so relatives could be found for the thousands of war orphans left from the past several years. Since the orphanages were overcrowded, children were being forced to leave earlier and earlier, and everyone knew there would be a meltdown of the current system if something didn't change. So DNA tests were forced and family located for the orphans.

Trowa had never suspected that any of the Gundam pilots would be forced into the system. Not that they'd been given a choice, of course. They had all been unconscience or asleep, and the doctor had claimed to need their blood for other tests. Une never would have allowed the tests otherwise. It had only a year since the Mariemaia uprising and none of the pilots were comfortable with the idea of having their DNA in the system. Not that they ever left it on missions, but they were still trained terrorists, people meant to work in secret. Having their DNA known was not a good way to work in secret.

"I gave no permission for this!" Une roared, and Sally shook her head with a sigh. She already knew it wouldn't get anywhere with the doctor who had insisted that Trowa needed to go to his family, despite his part-time job with the Preventors and part-time job with WEI. He even worked with the circus some, still, but not very often. He did keep in touch with Cathy, though.

"He's still underage. They're all still underage." The doctor crossed his arms. "They deserve to meet their families."

"Their families are better off thinking they're dead," Sally snarled, and Trowa was glad someone was standing up for them. Une's face was set in a scowl, her brown eyes flashing angerly. "They're the_Gundam pilots_!"

"He's still only sixteen--" The man began, but Une held up a hand.

"What have they told you five?" Une ignored the doctor to talk to the pilots.

"I still have family," Quatre's dry reply made Une snicker. "Obviously."

"He said no one found any family of mine," Duo shrugged. "But I doubt they'd find anything on L2's systems anyway. I mean, all things considered." Duo, sadly, made an excellent point; though several people had made L2 their personal mission in life and the colony was slowly loosing the stigma of being the poorest colony, it was still very poor econimcally. Quatre alone had donated millions to orphanages and schools, and all five pilots had done gang sweeps, picking up street kids and sending them to other colonies for schooling. They kept in touch with nearly half of whom they'd found, and made sure to keep an eye on their well-being. Many of the Preventors, who had discovered soft spots not only for the Gundam Pilots but also the street kids, helped out, taking orphaned children under their wings and acting as parental figures for them. All five pilots were grateful for it.

"My family is clearly all dead." Wu Fei offered, rolling his eyes. "Any relatives I have are too far removed for this testing to be conclusive." Quatre moved to rub Wu Fei's back, face soft with sympathy.

Hiiro could only shrug. They'd all had some genetic manipulation, but only Hiiro's was too extensive for the tests to be accurate. If he had family, it wasn't likely they would ever be able to find out. Hiiro was personally grateful. He didn't want to know if he had family, didn't want to forced them to accept him with so much blood on his hands. The doctor seemed extremely put out by it, but could do nothing more extensive without permission there was no chance he'd receive.

"And Trowa?" Une gave the last pilot a look.

"Has family on Earth. In England." Quatre frowned. "His father had two sisters, one deceased, one alive. The deceased one married and had a son. The husband is also dead, and the son is in the care of her sister. The living sister is married with one child."

"Your network is so much faster than mine," Une complained, making Quatre laugh. He always shared the intellgence he got with her, but it was always a sore point that Quatre could get results in minutes where it might take her hours or days. "What about Cathy?"

"We aren't related." Trowa looked morose. That news had been a heavy blow. "I am just a coincidence of fate, nothing more than a cosmic twin to her brother. If we're related, it's very distant."

"And Cathy said that some things were stronger than blood, you goof," Duo broke in, rolling his eyes. "You two are still related, just not by DNA. She still called you little brother when she hung up, remember?"

Trowa shrugged, but managed a small smile. The year the five pilots had spent away from war had been good to them. They all looked much the same, of course, but had lost the last remenants of baby-fat that had clung stubbornly to their bodies, though age had still not hardened them completely. All five were still extremely fit, still excersizing to use their gundams, just in case. What Une knew, that most did not, was that their Gundams hadn't been destroyed. The appearence was there, but Quatre had hidden them away, just in case. They had trust in the system, but the bout with Mariemaia taught them there was still a long way to go for peace. Even so, the Gundams were not readily accessible, even if they were available. It was the best option, all five had decided, and Une agreed.

All of them had grown, Trowa was the tallest, he'd shot up over half a foot over the last year. An mere inch under six feet, Trowa was the tallest of the pilots. Still built like an acrobat, Trowa had grown accustom to his height and often used it to his advantage. Especially against the small, slender Quatre that was barely five feet four inches and hadn't grown a bit in six months. The small-statured baby-blond constantly argued with his boyfriend that he was not "short" he was "vertically challenged" and always huffed loudly when one of the pilots teased him about his height. Not that Hiiro could, or did, since he was only an inch taller, but Hiiro didn't care if people called him short. To his thinking, in his rather straightforward manner, he was and that was really all there was to it. The genetic manipulation seemed to have messed with Hiiro enough to prevent further growth, since he hadn't grown for as long as Quatre, but only one pilot dared to tease him for it.

Duo, who enjoyed using the Wing pilot for an armrest, had shifted from the half-starved street-rat to hit a height just an inch under Trowa's. The thief was still thin and lithe, but his height made it possible for him to tease the now-shorter Hiiro. Duo seemed to take great delight in it because he'd been shorter than his boyfriend much of the war. Hiiro always ignored the exchange, though all the pilots had to wonder if Duo wasn't going to loose a limb one day from his playful teasing. Wu Fei was just waiting for it. He might want to take the revenge on his own, but watching Hiiro rip Duo's arm off--and probably beat him with it--would be worth the loss. Wu Fei had grown quite a bit as well, to five feet eight inches, and also seemed like his growth spurt had ended there. He couldn't say he was disappointed, since it was the perfect height to snuggle up to Zechs with, but Duo being taller than he was a source of contention.

Though Duo had stopped when Zechs had taken him aside and probably threatened him with something bloody and painful. Hiiro had even stepped in at one point, but Duo had learned to keep his mouth mostly closed. Une smiled at her pilots. They weren't children, and hadn't been for a long time, but she still protected them against what little she could. The five pilots had a lot of people that attempted it.

"Now what, then?" Duo finally asked Une, rubbing his face. Hiiro moved to embrace his lover and rest his cheek against Duo's back.

Quatre's eyes shimmered, and his voice hitched a bit. "I don't want to loose him!"

Trowa wrapped his arms around his little lover, pressing a kiss to Quatre's hair. "I'm not going anywhere."

"By law you have no choice, really," Une glared at the doctor. "Since we've located your family. But there isn't a reason it can be for just a short visit. There is no need for you to stay indefinately. Besides, Quatre, the rest of you could just go with him. Surely you have a house near-by. And I know they live near London, so you can run your company from there for awhile."

Quatre perked up. "That is true, of course," He agreed. "You'd give us leave that long?"

"No, but I'll transfer the lot of you down there," Une's smile was a relief. "I'm not going to force you five apart. You still need each other." Une was accutely aware of their nightmares, and just how difficult it was for them to sleep with one or more of their number on a mission. She and several of their other friends had often forced the pilots to stay with someone those nights.

Quatre's bright smile made it worth it, of course, and Sally couldn't help breath a sigh of relief. "We can visit Relena while we're there, too. I'm sure Zechs will be glad to see his sister. Besides, I know Noin has wanted Zechs to go for awhile, now. Being Relena's bodyguard has severely cut into her social life."

"Being around Relena cuts into one's social life no matter what," Hiiro deadpanned. Duo snickered. Hiiro's cynical and sardonic sense of humor, while amusing, tended to get him into trouble. Especially with the girl he affectionally called his sister.

"Trowa will be leaving earlier than you," Une reminded them. "But I'm sure you'll make it down there fairly quickly. I'll go start the paperwork, and I'll leave you to Sally's tender mercies."

Sally had begun medical school again, which meant the pilots didn't see her a great deal either, and would be finished in another two years. Quatre had paid for her schooling, to her relief, and Une had already promised her a job at a Preventor's hospital. She was the only person the Gundam Pilots really trusted their health too, since she had worked so closely with them during the war. That and she was somewhat of an expert on them because of that contact. Even though she had only been a field medic, she'd often been forced to take care of them since no one else could. Her knowledge of their medical background was extremely important.

Sally looked them over. "You want to tell me more about this so-called 'family' of yours, Barton?" She finally asked, checking them over one last time, telling the doctor they could be released, and forcing him to go get their paperwork. "And how you ended up here in the first place?"

"Kidnapping," Duo grumbled, looking annoyed. "They took some kid and demanded ransom, then used her as a shield and sprayed this gas at us. We were fine until after the mission, but we were fighting the affects so they dragged us here and drugged us, because you weren't here and they were too stupid to check our med files, and here we are."

Sally snorted. "Sounds like great fun."

"You have _no_ idea," Wu Fei muttered in reply. He had been hanging around Duo far too long.

"And where is Zechs?" Sally raised an eyebrow.

"Well, he was the only one not hit by the gas, so he had to return the kid, then go report, and he should be here soon, but he's probably been waylaid by a few marriage proposals." Duo snuggled against Hiiro, resting his cheek on the other pilot's head. "Or something like that."

Zechs choose that unlucky moment to enter the room, looking slightly dazed. Une had explained what had happened, then ordered him in to see his younger lover. "How the hell are you five so unlucky to get shit like this to happen to you, but lucky enough to survive a few wars?" He demanded.

"Karma's kick-me sign," Hiiro quipped, and the others rolled their eyes. Zechs moved to check Wu Fei over, then sat down next to him, sighing in relief when he discovered the Chinese pilot in one piece.

"Anyway," Quatre glared at them both. "The doctor ran these tests and found out about Trowa's family. His father was English, his mother was Latino. And before you ask, no, we don't have a clue how they met. Or her specific ethnicity. We _think_ she was from Mexico, but there's no telling. His real name is Hugo."

Zechs and Sally bit back snickers. Duo didn't bother. Every time he heard Trowa's real name, he laughed. It never failed. Zechs finally gave in. "They called you _Hugo_?"

Trowa rolled his eyes. "It's not like it was my choice," He grunted.

"He's still Trowa," Quatre informed them. "Trowa Triton Barton-Bloom."

"You know what?" Duo finally managed amidst his laughter. "I think I'll just call him Trowa."

Quatre pouted a little, but Trowa shook his head. "I'm only Triton Bloom to Cathy, but I'm Trowa to everyone else. It's a good name; I'll just keep it."

"You're no fun," Quatre ribbed, but let the matter go. Trowa would always be Trowa, to him, and Quatre absolutely _refused_ to start calling him Hugo. Trowa just smiled at his lover and shook his head, ruffling the baby-blond locks. Quatre made a face at him.

"When do you leave, Trowa?" Zechs looked at the teen.

Trowa frowned. "A week."

"That's not much notice."

"Stardard procedure," Quatre explained bitterly. "They didn't even take into account he's not like the other kids they send off, because Trowa's not actually part of an orphanage, and he's not exactly normal, and we have to plan for his jobs, and plan for him being on his own like that without anything familier around. . ."

"I'll be fine, Quatre."

"Yeah, if you don't sleep." Quatre's upset was clear. It was also kind of selfish on Quatre's part, too. He never slept well without Trowa around. Trowa shook his head and turned to the door as the doctor returned, telling them all they were free to leave. The other pilots just sighed and gathered their things to head out. If Trowa really was due to leave in a week, they all had a lot to get done.  
**oOooOo**

Nine year old Harry Potter perked up as he heard his aunt approaching his cupboard. He really, really, really had to go to the restroom, and he couldn't leave his cupboard because Uncle Vernon locked him in every night. He was really bored, too. They locked him in at exactly eight o'clock at night and refused to let him out until half past seven the next morning, and Harry was always awake really early. Besides, he still had homework left to do, and chores too. If he worked it right, he could finish his homework while he cooked Dudley's breakfast.

Aunt Petunia shoved the door open and glared at the child, dragging him from the cupboard. "Hurry up, you lazy boy!" She snarled and Harry hopped to attention, running to the kitchen to start the bacon, then running to the loo, then hurrying to get his homework, and then checking the bacon. He had breakfast down to an absolute art form, but his aunt never seemed pleased with it. Harry frowned slightly and rested his head on the counter while he continued to cook.

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon's annoyed voice made him jump. "Get me my paper and the mail!"

"Yes, sir!" Harry called, jumping off his stool and heading towards the front door. He was lucky to have the stool; Aunt Petunia had finally let him use it after he'd burnt the bacon too often because he was too small to look into the frying pan. Adjusting his cheap, black framed glasses, Harry grabbed the mail. Green eyes flicked expertly over each name and return address, sorting it for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

The Preventors seal made him start, and rush into the kitchen. "Government envelop!" Harry called, knowing that he needed to announce it even if it made Aunt Petunia slap him. She'd be really angry if he didn't. She did slap him, but Harry was glad it was fairly light, and handed her the envelop. Aunt Petunia ripped it open, her blue eyes growing wide. Harry almost laughed at the look on her face. Petunia had perfectly cut and dyed blonde hair, and blank blue eyes, as well as a long neck and horse-like teeth. Her reaction to the letter had made her look even more horse-like, with her jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Harry had to run back to the kitchen to keep from laughing.

"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia shouted, slamming the letter onto the table and running up stairs. Harry tilted his head at her action and frowned, looking at the letter.

_Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursely:_

_We are pleased to inform you than we have found one of your relatives thanks to the newest DNA data bank. Hugo Evans was discovered alive and well Monday afternoon in our esteemed hospital and will be sent to you for your care. He is sixteen years of age and the son of your now-deceased brother Adrian Evans and his wife Adela. He will be arriving at your house next Monday from the L3 colony X-19375. We hope you will welcome him into your home. . ._

The letter continued on for some time in a similar vein, relaying the hospital's hopes "Hugo" would be treated like their own son. Harry nearly snorted. The Dursleys didn't want _him_. Why would they want someone else to mooch off them? But the letter also said Hugo would have some kind of support from the government, too, though Harry wasn't sure if the Dursley's got that for him as well. Surely they did, since he was an orphan as well.

Harry turned the days over in his head. He'd get to meet his new cousin in less than a week! It was already Wednesday. He grinned for a moment, excited, then felt his stomach churn. What if Hugo was really mean? What if he bullied Harry because Harry was little? Maybe the Dursleys would actually like Hugo and they tell him how bad Harry was. Harry chewed his lip, removing the bacon from the pan. What if Hugo _hated_ him? The rest of his family did, so Hugo shouldn't be much different, but what if Hugo was really mean?

Harry really didn't want Hugo to be mean, but what if Hugo was just like Dudley, only bigger? Dudley was really big and he hurt Harry a lot already. What if Hugo was worse?

But Aunt Petunia hadn't seemed very happy about having someone else live in the house. Maybe they'd hate Hugo too. Harry felt really bad for that thought. He didn't want them to hate Hugo, just because he was a freak like Harry. That wouldn't be fair to Hugo.

Putting breakfast on the table, Harry let his mouth water at the sight of bacon and eggs and went to get some toast instead. Uncle Vernon didn't like it when Harry ate their good food. He was only allowed the day-old bread in the pantry. Maybe he'd have to share that with Hugo, too! Then he'd get even less to eat! Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that. Maybe Hugo would be nice to him, but Harry was always hungry already, and he was really skinny, so sharing food would be bad.

Sighing, Harry glanced at the letter again. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. . . but what if Hugo was terrible and mean? What if Hugo hurt him too? Harry bit his lip and turned to get his school things. Hugo would be nice, he was just sure of it!  
**oOooOo**

Aunt Petunia kept Harry home from school the rest of the week, making him clean the entire house top to bottom. Harry even had to clean out the basement and attic and greenhouse! He cleaned out Dudley's second bedroom, hoping that Uncle Vernon would finally let him sleep in there. Uncle Vernon never said no when he asked, and Harry cleaned with vigor! He was finally going to get his own room! Maybe they'd put Hugo in the cupboard, since Harry had lived there longer. Or Hugo could sleep in the guest room, but they had to save that for when Aunt Marge came to visit, so Harry doubted it.

Harry scrubbed and scrubbed Dudley's second bedroom, and threw away all the broken toys like Petunia told him too, and made sure all the books were nice and neat. He helped set up the new bed and put together the new dresser, and even make the bed. Harry nearly squirmed in excitement. He was going to get new sheets to sleep on too!

Once the furniture was all nice and the walls were clean and the floor was scrubbed, Harry waited to be told he could move in. Uncle Vernon smirked at him, and Harry straightened up. "Hugo should be comfortable in here, shouldn't he," Uncle Vernon offered, cruelly.

Big, green eyes blinked in surprise, and Harry sagged. All that work. . . and Hugo was going to get the bedroom? "Yes, sir." Harry told him, exhausted, and felt his hope of getting the room shatter. Harry should have known he wouldn't get the room. Hugo was special, and Harry wasn't. Or maybe it was because Hugo was old. At least Harry wouldn't have to share the cupboard with Hugo. That thought relieved him a lot. Not that Harry was going to admit it.

When he finally finished cleaning the house Sunday afternoon, Harry was exhausted. He crawled back to his cupboard to sleep, collapsing into dreamless sleep almost immediately. Only Aunt Petunia's screeching woke him later so he could wash up, then he was sent right back to the cupboard. They didn't even feed him supper. Apparently Aunt Petunia had to go over some of Harry work because he was sloppy. That wasn't much of a surprise, but Harry was really hungry. His belly grumbled and growled, and Harry longed for a single piece of bread until he fell asleep for the second time, still exhausted.

But it was almost time for Hugo to arrive! He was so excited, he could hardly wait!

Smiling into the darkness, Harry wondered again what Hugo was like. Maybe he was really, really nice and he'd take Harry away from the Dursleys to a brand-new home with people that wanted him and gave him a room all to himself. Giggling to himself, Harry began to dream of flying motorcycles and the best cousin in the world.  
**oOooOo**

Harry had been dressed for hours when Aunt Petunia finally pounded on his door and told him to get out and start breakfast. Harry began most of his normal routine, but he was very excited. He and Dudley didn't have to go to school because Hugo was coming! Making breakfast while he was almost dancing was kind of hard, but Harry was too excited to walk normally. He just had to make extra sure he stayed out of the way. Hurrying to get the paper and the mail, Harry was only just putting breakfast on the table when the doorbell rang.

Aunt Petunia, dressed in one of her prettiest dresses, hurried to answer the door. Harry peeked out of the kitchen, waiting for his first glance of his new cousin.

"You must be Miss Forrite," Aunt Petunia simpered, inviting the tall woman inside, then smiling at the youth behind her. "And you must be Hugo!"

Miss Forrite's only remarkable feature was her height, the rest of her being extremely ordinary, with her curly brown hair and brown eyes. She was dressed in a Preventor's uniform, which Harry found rather odd, but maybe it was normal for the Preventors to deliever the orphans. Harry had never seen one to know. It didn't matter, though, as Harry passed her over. She wasn't who he wanted to see. Then his eyes fell on the young man behind her. He was on his mid-teens, and stood just an inch under six feet. Light brown hair glinted in the morning light. It was strangely cut, Harry noted, but it suited the stranger anyway. Despite being short in the back, the boy had one, long sweeping bang in the front that covered half his face at any given time. The stranger blinked, then turned to look directly at Harry, making the child pull back into the kitchen after a moment. Harry smiled to himself. Hugo had green eyes, too! Just like the ones Harry saw every day in the mirror, even if Hugo's eyes seemed darker, somehow.

"You must be Adrian's boy, Hugo," Aunt Petunia offered, and Harry could almost hear the big, fake smile on her face. Since Harry didn't hear a reply, he could only assume Hugo had nodded.

"I suppose we'll leave him in your care, for the moment," Miss Forrite's voice was deep, for a woman's voice, and Harry nearly laughed. She sounded almost like a man! Aunt Petunia had to be mortified.

"We'll be sure to take excellent care of him," Aunt Petunia told her.

"I don't think it'll take much," Miss Forrite replied, and Harry heard the rustle of cloth. "He won't be staying here too long, just until some things are straightened out at the capitol. Trowa is very high-priority."

"Trowa?" Aunt Petunia sounded confused. "I thought his name was Hugo."

"Whatever," Miss Forrite waved a hand. "Call him Hugo if you please. He doesn't care."

Harry blinked. Why would Miss Forrite call Hugo "Trowa"? But Harry had to admit that "Hugo" didn't seem to fit the tall youth, and resolved to call him "Trowa" like Miss Forrite did. It fit him better. And Harry like the name "Trowa" a lot better than the name "Hugo."

"Thank you for bringing him all this way," Aunt Petunia smiled. "He's early, so my son and husband aren't up yet, otherwise I'd introduce you to them."

"It was nothing." Miss Forrite replied, and Harry could hear her shoes click against the floor as she made her way to the door. "Before I go, who was the little boy in the kitchen?"

"Just Harry," Aunt Petunia waved it off. "He's my nephew. I don't expect him and Hugo to get along well; he's a terrible child. Misbehaves all the time."

Harry blinked back tears. He always tried to be very, very good. He just. . . wasn't. He didn't understand why, because when he'd tried to act like Dudley he'd been beaten, but when he tried to be good his Aunt and Uncle laughed at him or ignored him or told him he was worthless. "He has my eyes." A deep voice Harry hadn't heard before offered.

It had to belong to Hu--Trowa. Harry smiled. So Hu--_Trowa_ had noticed him! He was excited. "Your father had the same eye color," Aunt Petunia dismissed it. "So did his mother."

"I see." Harry could almost see Trowa nod, even though Trowa was in the hallway and Harry was facing the stove. Moments later he heard Miss Forrite call out her good-byes to Trowa and the door opened, then closed.

"Make yourself at home," Aunt Petunia told Trowa. "I'll go and get Vernon and Dudley up."

"Thank you." Aunt Petunia's footsteps faded, but Harry didn't hear Trowa move. "You must be Harry." The voice was a lot closer than Harry had thought.

Harry yelped and jumped, nearly knocking the bacon pan off the stove. Cold green eyes regarded him closely, and Harry shivered under his scrutiny, not wanting to look at Trowa, fearing Trowa would think he was bad, just like his Aunt and Uncle. Trowa gave a small snort, backing away from Harry and taking a seat at the table to wait for Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Harry felt his heart sink. Trowa didn't seem to like him at all.

Was is possible that Harry was just. . . was just. . . _unlovable_?  
**oOooOo**


	2. Cousins

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Two  
Cousins

**Disclaimer:** Nothing has changed within the last five minutes. I'm sorry. I still don't own either Gundam Wing or Harry Potter.

**Warnings:** Shounen ai (1x2, 3x4, 5x6).

**Author's Note:** Please remember to review and point out any grammar errors/typos so I can fix them. Also, I like constructive criticism. Any flames recieved will be eaten by Deathscythe.

But, beyond that, enjoy chapter two!  
**oOooOo**

Trowa made himself comfortable on the wooden chair in the kitchen, sipping at the tea Harry had given him with a sigh. The entire house was strange, almost too perfect, in his eyes. The floors were all perfectly spotless, the walls were all perfectly clean, and the pictures were all perfectly level. The starkness of the house made Trowa want to gag. He and the other pilots kept their home clean, with everything neat and put in its place, but Duo liked to put his muddy shoes at the door so he'd remember to clean them later, or Wu Fei would absently leave a novel on the couch's side table with an empty cup of tea. Their packs practically lived under the large bar in the kitchen, waiting to be taken to work with them the next day, or Quatre would forget to take his violin case to the music room after he arrived home from the evening orchestra he played with.

This house--this perfect, too clean house--bothered Trowa because there was no evidence of people living in it. No shoes by the door, no backpacks set out, no nothing. In fact, Trowa had even noticed that the black haired child was missing from the every last one of the family portraits. There was no evidence the child even lived there, except that he was in the kitchen, cooking. Trowa continued to sip at his tea. It tasted cheap and watery, unlike the strong blend Quatre preferred that Trowa liked to snitch. He missed the scent of Duo's coffee. It was one of the few extravegant things Duo bought for every day use, but he just loved the rich blend mixed with Irish Cream flavoring. The morning seemed. . . wrong without those reminders of his friends.

Even breakfast smelled weird. Trowa wasn't used to having bacon and eggs. Hiiro liked to cook a traditional Japanese breakfast for everyone almost twice a week, and Quatre had a tendency to join in with his own, native food. Zechs loved to get up early and bake bread, filling the house with it's lovely scent even as it mixed with spices from Japan or the Middle East. The Dursley's house smelled strange since it was missing spices from almost every continient on the planet, and even some off, as six very different people lived together. Trowa nearly winced at the thought of having to wait at least three weeks before getting any of Zechs' made-from-scratch croissonts. It was strange, not to be with his family, sitting at the table with people he knew as well as he knew himself.

Trowa knew he'd miss his friends and lover. It wouldn't be the same, not having Zechs and Wu Fei curse at Duo when they tripped over his muddy boots walking inside, or listening to Hiiro mutter something while he worked in the living room. He wouldn't hear the multi-cultural music he was used to hearing from the kitchen speakers as some of the pilots spent the evening cooking together, or hear Une yell at one of them over the phone for removing the folders _clearly_ labled as "top secret" from the office even though they all had the necessary clearence to look at them. Homesickness washed over him, and Trowa nearly laughed. He'd never been homesick before in his life. But then, he didn't miss his house so much as the people that lived there.

He allowed himself another soft sigh, tilting his head back slightly. He hadn't let his guard down the entire time he'd been in the house, and he knew he wouldn't until Quatre arrived in just under two weeks. He could handle two weeks away from everyone, he hoped, but he knew he wouldn't be getting an excessive amount of sleep. The nightmares would return, and he really didn't care to explain why he'd woke up, screaming, at three in the morning when the information was classified.

Thundering footsteps made Trowa look up, hand reaching towards the gun in the holster at the small of his back. Harry's green eyes flickered towards the stairs, then back to the stove, clearly unconcerned. Trowa raised an eyebrow. What could make such a noise in the house? And why would Harry find it an everyday occurance?

It didn't take long to find out. An incredibly fat child clomped into the kitchen, making the floor shake and creak. Trowa nearly dove for cover, fully expecting plaster to start raining down on him. The boy stared at him for a moment, then sat at the kitchen table. If Trowa hadn't managed to get his emotionless mask down to an art form, he would have cringed in pity for the chair.

"Who're you?" The boy demanded, his speech thick and slow. His chins and jowls wobbled as he spoke, the sound something like the grunt of a pig. Trowa calmly blinked at him, wondering how the child had gotten so fat. He wasn't particularily tall, standing maybe the height of Trowa's collarbone, and as big around as he was tall. His girth almost caught the doorframe, he was so wide, and his skin was flushed from the exertion of walking to the kitchen from his bedroom. Bowl cut blond hair, several shades darker than Petunia's perfectly dyed blond, was plastered to his head with sweat and watery blue eyes examined Trowa dully.

"Hugo Evans." Trowa offered, not caring for this family to use his real name. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry stiffen, then approach him slowly. "You are?"

"Dudley Dursley. What are you doing in my house?"

"I am your cousin. I will be staying here for a short time." Trowa's voice was friendly enough: he'd had to learn social skills when he became a clown even though he preferred silence, really. Harry had been a welcome relief. The boy was softspoken and had light steps. Were he ever trained, he would be quiet as any Gundam Pilot.

"You're like the freak, then," Dudley nodded to himself, then looked at Harry. "Where's my breakfast?"

"The bacon isn't done yet, Dudley," Harry whispered before tugging shyly at Trowa's tee-shirt. "M-may I ask a question?"

Trowa tilted his head. "Of course." He could have teased the child, but Harry's shyness made the idea seem unwise.

"I. . . I thought you were Trowa. That's what Ms. Forrite called you, didn't she?"

Trowa felt a gentle smile break out on his face. So the child was observant, too. "Yes, she did. I was unaware of my real name for some time and have gone by Trowa for years, now. That is also how my friends refer to me. Should you wish to use the name, I will not object."

Harry nodded, then returned to the stove as Petunia's clicking heels announced her entrance. "Oh, Dudley, you're already down here! Good, have you met Hugo?"

"He's going to eat my food, isn't he, Mummy?" Dudley wailed. Trowa frowed. Wasn't Dudley too old to be throwing temper tantrums? Not that Trowa had anything to base that on, really, but if he had acted as Dudley did, the mercenaries probably would have left him for the wolves. They had certainly threatened it enough.

"Of course not, Poppet," Petunia soothed, patting his hair. "We've made more for him so he doesn't have to eat yours."

"G-good," Dudley sniffed. Trowa managed not to roll his eyes. What he hadn't known then, that he would later learn, was that he wouldn't even be getting bacon and eggs for breakfast--though it was more like brunch by then--if Ms. Forrite hadn't assured Petunia that Trowa would be looked in on by Lady Une herself. And not only Lady Une, Ms. Forrite had also stressed just a few of the _very_ important people Trowa was aquainted with. Like Relena. And Quatre. Though she had neglected to mention the exact nature of Trowa's relationship with Quatre.

Ms. Forrite's only regret was that she wouldn't get to see Petunia's face when the woman learned Trowa was gay.

Trowa watched Petunia--who greatly resembed a giraffe with her long neck--peer over Harry's shoulder, then direct the boy to set the table before settling in her chair like she was exhausted. "Making breakfast is such a chore," She sighed, and Trowa nearly started. The woman hadn't even _made_ breakfast. That boy, Harry, had.

Trowa bit his tongue. Now was not the time to alienate himself from his "family." No matter how tempting the idea was. He'd promised to give them a chance, and he had barely known them for two hours. It hadn't been quite long enough to decide anything. Once the twenty four hour mark passed, however, they were fair game.

Pounding footsteps caught his attention again, and he waited for the ceiling to cave in. Instead a great man lumbered into the room. "Who is this?" The man demanded, stroking his large, dark mustache. Trowa wanted to be violently ill. Like Dudley, the man was incredibly fat, with his face flushed and sweating from his decent to the kitchen from the bedroom. His hairline was reeceding, but what was left was plastered to his skull in limp, dark strands. A meaty hand hit the table. "Answer me, boy!"

"I am Hugo Evans. Your new houseguest." Trowa kept his voice flat, forcing himself not to react to the disgusting sight. What a bunch of pigs, with no hospitality at all. They even all looked like pigs. Trowa had thought seeing the bodies of the dead had been terrible, all mangled and twisted groutesquely, but it turned out the living were worse in some cases. At least the dead had been put out of thir misery.

"A houseguest?" The man, who had to be Vernon Dursley, sneered. "Here to eat our food and take up our time, hm? Why can't you go get a real job and stop burdening the poor, working members of society?"

"Aside from it not being my fault my parents died," Trowa offered coldly, "I had a job. A very good job, may I add. Children Services forced me to come here. You should also forgo complaints. You'll be paid a pretty penny for my stay here."

Vernon looked taken aback, and Trowa felt pleased. The man really needed to think before he spoke. "Important, were you?" He demanded, and Trowa stared at him calmly, refusing to answer. Aside from being classified information, it wasn't any of his business. Vernon purpled. Trowa ignored him.

"Answer me," Vernon snarled, raising a hand. Trowa's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't move as Vernon violently slapped him across the face. The slap wasn't even that hard, in Trowa's mind, though he moved with it anyway, allowing his head to be turned to one side. Oz officers had done far worse during the war. Vernon rubbed his stinging hand as Trowa refocused his green eyes on the man, a frown marring his cold features. His cheek had not even reddened from the hit, and he could tell it distubed both Petunia and Vernon.

"Do not hit me again." Trowa ordered, his voice soft and frigid. "Lady Une would not like it."

"Like you know _her_," Dudley laughed stupidly. "She's one of the most important people in the country. How would you know her anyway?"

"Classified." Trowa's answer made the family laugh, like it was a good joke, but Trowa noticed a pair of thoughtful green eyes watching him from near the stove. Harry hadn't joined them to eat, munching on his toast next to the stove as he waited to collect plates and do dishes. Trowa allowed Harry to do as Petunia ordered, choosing not to step in. At least, not for the moment. He would learn about these people before he began to make his own place in their home for the next two weeks. After Quatre arrived, however, Trowa was going to head over to their new house and get a good night's sleep.

"Isn't it nice to have him here, though?" Petunia smiled. "The whole family." There was something strained about her words that Trowa disliked, but he choose to remain silent. Dudley, however, did not.

"No! I want to be an only child! Why can't you get rid of him? And get rid of the freak too!" The boy wailed. Trowa saw Harry cringe and wished to join him. His mask did not allow for such movements, however. "He even took over my room! Why can't he sleep in the cupboard with Harry?"

"There's no room," Petunia explained, trying to "soothe" her son. In Trowa's opinion, a good beating would have done the boy good. Or at least some form of discipline. Beatings weren't exactly considered good child-rearing, he supposed. Even if the wretched child deserved it.

"We could put him outside," Dudley sniffled. "Like a dog. The freak would probably like it. He's practically an animal anyway."

Petunia frowned, almost seeming to consider it, but shook her head. It would draw too much attention from the neighbors. "Hugo won't be here for very long," Petunia tried to get Dudley to stop crying. "He'll be gone before you know it."

"Promise?" Dudley sniffled, drying his clearly faked tears. Trowa couldn't believe she'd fallen for it.

"Of course, popkin," Petunia cooed.

Trowa felt slightly ill. Why did he have to get stuck with a bunch of idiots, anyway? Forcing back a grimmace, Trowa rose. "I still need to take my bags upstairs," He told her. "Will someone please show me the way?"

Petunia nodded, then turned a dark look on Harry. "Get going, boy!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry's dutiful chant was followed by the clatter of dishes.

Petunia stiffened. "Who told you not to clean up?"

Trowa stiffened in anger. How dare anyway do that to a child? But now was not the time to reveal anything. Harry stared at Petunia, confused. "But. . . I'm supposed to show T--Hugo to his room, right? How can I show Hugo to his room while I clean?"

"You better figure it out, you ungrateful ruffian. I won't have a slacker in this house! Now get to work!"

Harry chewed on his lip, looking from Trowa, to then sink, then back again. Trowa waited passively, and Harry quickly finished a few plates, then started to lead Trowa upstairs. Trowa grabbed his suitcases from the entry hall, following Harry effortlessly, despite the size of the bags. Harry stopped in front of a somewhat battered door, then shoved it open. "I helped put the furniture together," Harry announced, proudly.

Trowa looked over the bed, dresser, and desk, then nodded to the child. "It looks very nice. Thank you."

"You're welcome!" Harry cheered, trying to take one of the larger bags from Trowa. The gundam pilot refused, but allowed Harry to take the smaller to set on the bed. It had firearms in it, of course, but they were safe enough for the boy to move the case. Trowa would unpack them himself.

"You best go finish your dishes, child," Trowa told him gently, before settling down to unpack. Harry gave a nod and ran from the room. Trowa smiled softly. Harry was very sweet, and probably would have been highly affectionate--if he was allowed to be. Hanging his things in the closet, Trowa glared at his new, school uniform. The ugly uniform stared back.

The uniform was entirely gray, the pants, tie, blazer, shoes, and shirt. All looking like someone had skinned an elephant. Trowa wrinkled his nose. He'd be stuck in school for two weeks, and he had to say he was hardly thirlled. Once Quatre arrived, he would leave school upon Une's request. Until then, he would have to deal with it.

Setting his laptop on the desk and tucking his reader and notebook beside it, Trowa hung up his clothes and arranged his underthings in one drawer of the dresser. He had very little, since he wasn't expecting to stay long, and couldn't wait to leave. Already the Dursleys were driving him to madness. His only real regret, at least at the moment, was that he would probably have to leave Harry behind when he left. Sending a note to his brothers and lover, to let them know he had arrived at the house safely, Trowa finally headed back down the stairs. Harry was nowhere to be found, and Petunia informed him the child was locked in the cupboard for breaking a plate and not getting the dishes done fast enough.

Then she promptly turned on the telly and was joined by her husband and son. Trowa sighed. "I think I should like to explore a bit." He told them. "May I borrow Harry for it?"

"Whatever." Petunia waved a hand. She wanted to get back to her programme. The two males didn't even look up.

Trowa grunted, but let Harry out of the cupboard. "Get your shoes and a coat," He ordered. "We're going out."

Harry nodded, grabbing his heavest sweater and jacket, then pulling on his ratty shoes before following Trowa up the stairs. Trowa stared at him. "Where is your coat?"

"Uncle Vernon said they couldn't afford one this year for me, and I ripped the one from last year when I fell." Harry explained. Trowa bit his lip. Odds of Harry being helped along with his fall were likely. He pulled out a heavy coat, then paused for a moment.

"And your shoes? Those look a little small for you."

Harry shrugged. "It's all right. My feet are small."

Trowa sighed and dug around in his own bag, pulling out a second coat and handing Harry the first. "That will be warmer than what you have, even if it will be far too large." He told the child, then donned the slightly lighter one. He wouldn't freeze since he was used to cold weather. Being a gundam pilot certainly gave one strange survival skills. Being able to survive cold was one of them. Harry pulled on the overlarge coat and grinned, looking incredibly silly. The coat was definately made for the much larger Trowa.

Trowa sighed and started down the staircase. As soon as he could, he would buy the child some new shoes and a new coat. It was still only January and the weather was extremely cold for a light jacket and worn trainers. The two quickly left, and Harry grinned, skipping around in the cold air. Trowa watch for a moment. "I want to look around, if that's fine. What is near here?"

"Just houses, really," Harry scurried back to Trowa, looking at the elder hesitently, then slipped his hand into Trowa's. Trowa minutely tightened his fingers around Harry's, to let him know it was okay to hold Trowa's hand, and the boy relxed. "There's a playground, though. Want to see it?"

Trowa almost said no, since the walkways were covered in snow and ice, but Harry's hopeful little face beamed up at him. "Of course."

Harry gave a small cheer. "I don't go there much," Harry explained. "Because Aunt Petunia doesn't want people to know I'm related."

"She'll wish_I_ wasn't, soon enough," Trowa grumbled under his breath, following Harry down the street. Harry looked up to smile several times before they arrived, and Trowa nearly laughed. There was no one outside in that weather, the cold driving them indoors, or the the snow sending them to find hills to sled on. Harry, gloveless, tucked his hands into the sleeves of Trowa's over-large coat and raced to the swings. Trowa followed a bit more sedately, watching Harry play. It appeared that was not something he was allowed to do often.

The next two hours passed in a blur, and Trowa finally told Harry it was time to go home. Petunia would expect him to go start a meal, and Harry was three quarters frozen anyway. Any longer outside and Trowa wouldn't have to worry about that new coat: Harry would be a little harry-sicle and it wouldn't matter anymore.

The child giggled and grabbed Trowa's hand for the walk back home, talking a mile a minute, as children are wont to do, as though Trowa hadn't actually been at the playground and watching Harry's every move. Affectionately Trowa ruffled the boy's hair, then swung Harry into his arms when he gave a wide yawn. The boy was asleep before they reached the house.

"Where were you?" Petunia demanded, her face twisted in annoyance. "The boy should have been home half an hour ago to start supper!"

"You won't starve," Trowa told her calmly, going upstairs. "I will be down shortly to cook something for you. Harry is exhausted."

"He doesn't work, he doesn't eat!" Petunia snapped.

"Then he may have my share." Trowa would rather starve than watch a child go hungry. Just because his childhood had been extremely difficult didn't mean others should be the same. Children shouldn't need to worry about meals and clothes and shelter. They should be happy and carefree and innocent. Stripping the soaking coat off Harry and hanging it to dry, Trowa quickly discovered the coat wasn't the only article of clothing that was wet. It was the work of a few moments to strip the child to his underthings, and another to redress him in a warm shirt that reached to his knees and a pair of shorts that looked more like pants on Harry. The child sighed softly and shifted a little as Trowa tucked him under the warm blankets.

Trowa smiled and shut the door. The boy would be fine, at least for now. He could stand in as the cook for the night.  
**oOooOo**

Harry yawned and snuggled up to the nice, warm pillow that was next to him, sighing. His cot actually felt soft, and the cupboard wasn't freezing cold, like it usually was. It also felt like someone was rubbing his back gently, like he'd seen Aunt Petunia do for Dudley. It was such a nice dream that Harry didn't want to wake up. Green eyes fluttered open, and Harry nearly screamed when he found himself wrapped in Trowa's arms. "Hush, child," Trowa soothed, sounding wide awake. "I'm not hurting you." Trowa handed the child his glasses.

"Wh--where am I?" Harry was scared. Vernon said bad men took little boys to their beds, but Trowa had seemed so very nice!

"In my room, obviously." The teen snorted. "You were exhausted after the park, so I let you sleep in here last night. I couldn't very well leave you in those soaking clothes, either." Harry stiffened as he realized he'd been undressed, but relaxed upon finding himself clothed, even if they weren't his own.

"I can also assure you," Trowa added somewhat dryly, sitting up to show Harry he was also dressed, "That my tastes run toward an older crowd."

Harry felt his cheeks burn. "I didn't mean--"

"Do not apologize," Trowa ordered. "You were right to worry. I should have woken you to let you know what was going on. Do not be afraid to ask me questions, or to make sure your assumptions are correct."

Harry nodded, even though he still felt really bad. Trowa had been very nice to him, even if he was definately strange, but at least his cousin wasn't one of the "weirdos" that Uncle Vernon always talked about. Even if he was different from everyone else in the family. "Do you feel better?" Trowa asked, getting up and stretching. Harry grinned in agreement and bounded from the bed. Trowa gestured to some clothing at the foot he'd retrieved for Harry to wear, then looked at the boy. Harry wasn't sure if he liked the look or not, but Trowa only told him to dress. They had school.

When Trowa pulled on his uniform, Harry nearly laughed. He looked so silly in his all gray clothes that Harry couldn't help it!

"Just think," Trowa knuckled his head. "This will be you in a few more years."

"Will not!" Harry protested, making a face. "I'll go somewhere with a cool uniform!" Trowa laughed at him, then chased him from the room. Harry's long sleep made him feel well rested despite the early hour, and he quickly began breakfast for the rest of the house. Trowa watched him for a moment, then sipped at the tea Harry had offered. Harry was happy Trowa seemed to like him more than Dudley. He'd never had anyone like him more than Dudley.

A knock at the door made Trowa blink. Harry pulled it open, then blanched. "Good morning, young sir," The _huge_ man smiled, his dark eyes crinkling in amusement at the astonishment on Harry's face. He was the biggest person Harry had ever seen! "Is Master Trowa here?"

Harry nodded frantically, and turned to see Trowa step into the hall. Brown eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Rashid?" Harry nearly sighed in relief. At least Trowa knew this man! Harry was worried it had been a stranger, out to hurt his older cousin.

"Master Quatre sent me," The man--Rashid--explained with a shrug. "He sent a gift."

"A gift." Trowa sounded almost worried, and Harry chewed his lip. What if_Quatre_ was a mean person trying to hurt Trowa? What if the gift was really bad? But before Harry could say anything, Trowa had followed the huge man outside, then laughed outright. "He sent me a car."

"He knew you'd be attending school, and he said you all would need it later anyway. You might as well get some use out of it now." Rashid shrugged. Trowa nearly groaned. Only Quatre would send him a car. Not that it wasn't a nice car, but who sent cars as gifts? Only Quatre, of course. But Quatre was right. Trowa would need it, and he and the other pilots were all (legally) allowed to drive, thanks to Une, so he might as well get use out of it until they all arrived and had to share. "Was this part of the estate too?"

"Naturally, Master Trowa." Rashid smiled. The Arabian man had a terribly evil sense of humor, and Trowa knew it. "He also ensured you would get it in time for school."

"Gee, thanks." Trowa rolled his eyes. "Tell him I'm grateful, but next time he should send me flowers."

"I will do so. Master Quatre also told me to inform you that until he arrives to feel free to use us for any _reasonable_ requests since you seem to be under your guardians thumbs until the paperwork is completed. He claims that you cannot do much of anything without a responsible adult at the moment." Rashid ruffled Trowa's hair, to his annoyance, gave Trowa a smirk bordering on evil, then went to another car parked just down the block. Offering a final wave, Trowa watched them leave, then headed back inside. At least he wouldn't have to rely on Vernon for transportation anymore.

Harry looked up from the stove. "What did the man want? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Trowa sat down and laughed. "No, Harry. He works for a. . . friend of mine. My friend was loaning me a car and Rashid was dropping it off so I would have it for school."

"You can drive?" Harry looked eager. "That's so cool! I thought you couldn't drive until you turned eighteen!"

"Most people can't. I am an exception to this rule." Trowa passed him a liscense that allowed him to drive or fly just about anything built in the ESUN. He'd driven a Gundam. He had better know how to drive a car.

Harry gaped at the card for a moment, then handed it back. He didn't understand the importance of it, but it certainly looked amazing. All Harry knew was that Trowa could drive.

Thundering steps made both boys turn, and Vernon and Dudley both walked in, nearly sending Trowa for cover again. Was there anyone else on the planet that sounded like an army of mobile suits when they walked? "Whose car is out front?" Vernon demanded, straightening his tie, as though he was expecting someone important. The car Quatre had offered Trowa was nice--and expensive.

"Mine." Trowa twirled the keys on his finger. "I need it for school."

"Like you can drive." Vernon snorted.

Trowa rolled his eyes and produced a regular license that had his "birth name" on it. No reason to let Vernon see the real one. Vernon examined it in disbelief, then snorted. "Less for me to do, then."

"Not that you do anything." Trowa grumbled, eating his toast and watching Harry wolf his down as well.

"You'd better not be late, boy," Vernon ordered, and Trowa raised an eyebrow. "He walks." Vernon explained.

"What about Dudley?"

"I give him a ride."

Trowa snorted again, got up, and grabbed his backpack. "Come on, Harry. I'll give you a lift. Is that all right?"

Harry cheered. Trowa glared at Vernon as the two walked out the door.

The next two weeks, if things stayed the same, were certainly going to be interesting.  
**oOooOo**


	3. Eternity

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Three  
Eternity

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing or Harry Potter. Which is a total shame. Because I love them both. (huggles g-boys and Harry, then runs away when annoyed boyfriends/overprotective brother figures start to charge) Eep!

**Warnings:** 1x2, 3x4, 5x6 So far it is only mentioned because it's just Trowa and Harry. Later, however, is another story. But I'll warn you at that point.

**Author's Note:** I'm. . . ecstatic. I've gotten over forty reviews and I just. . . wow. Yeah. Wow. Thanks so much, everyone! I'm thrilled you all like this! I had this plot bunny in my head but. . . wow. You've rendered me speechless. Thank you so much!

_To Lilyflower01:_ Honestly, I haven't thought a thing about pairing Harry yet. He's only nine. I'll figure it out as it comes. I will listen to sugguestions, but I may not even pair him at all. Like I said, he is only nine.

_To momocolady:_ Magic does exist, but I have not yet decided if I'm going to take this all the way through Hogwarts. In any case, that wouldn't be this story, but a sequel. I think I'll take this one story at a time, for now.

_To Shadowed Tigress,  
and  
Everyone wondering about  
Hiiro's name:_ No, it is not misspelled. Going between kanji (in the loose sense that it's the enitrety of the Japanese Alphabet) and romanji (that it, the alphabet used for English) means there are many ways to spell the same thing. I've seen Hiiro's name both ways, and with the way I hear it pronounced, the double "i" makes more sense to me. As I don't know that kanji used for it, I couldn't tell you for sure, but I will be spelling his name Hiiro Yui.

_To Everyone_: I will not be abadoning the story, but I will warn you now that updates will be less frequent for awhile. I'm a senior at the university, and I have a lot to do in preperation for Graduation and finding a job. I will try to update as possible, but there may be long silences. For that, I'm sorry. However, there is no need to fear I've abadoned this story. It will get finished! I apologize now for the irregular updates, but I don't have much choice. I'm sorry. Be that as it may, though, I'm glad everyone is enjoying this. Please remember review, though I will not, and do not ever, hold my stories hostage for reviews.

But, beyond all that chatter, I hope everyone does me a favor and. . .  
enjoys chapter three!  
**oOooOo**

Trowa dropped Harry off at school, nearly laughing when several of his classmates, who knew a great more about cars than Harry himself, pounced on the child and demanded to know who was driving. Harry, always shy, answered softly and hurried away. Trowa's eyes narrowed. He had a feeling Harry was belittled at school as well as home, thanks to Dudley and the other students. His mannerisms indicated that he was a shy little thing, and really hated attention. That indicated attention, when Harry had it on him, was generally bad.

Trowa shook his head slightly and left, knowing that there was no reason for him to dwaddle. He needed to get to school himself. It wasn't so much that he cared about going to school, he just didn't want to listen to Vernon and Petunia whine about it later. The two of them tended to whine about everything, and Trowa knew if the school actually had to call home about him not even his expensive car (or, Quatre's expensive car, as it were) would save him. Vernon might have been impressed this morning, but that would only last so long.

The secondary school Trowa pulled in front of minutes later was depressing. It was a large, square, gray-bricked box. It reminded him of his uniform, the same depressing, disgraceful gray. It was the last place Trowa wanted to be, marked with the same oppressiveness that most of the schools he'd been forced to sneak into during the war had. Students still formed cliques, and Trowa knew, as he had during the war, he wouldn't fit into any of them. It hadn't been important then, and wasn't important now.

What was worse, he supposed, was that attending school didn't even make sense. He had already received his diploma for high school and gotten his undergraduate degree for aircraft and vehichle engineering in college. Currently he was working on his masters. High school was like moving from drinking glasses to sippy cups--a pointless endevour.

Parking on the street and walking inside, Trowa forced himself to stay out of sight, utilizing skills he had perfected during the wars. He wasn't a normal teenager, and didn't want any of the students to attempt to get friendly with him. He didn't want to be connected with anyone at the school, no matter how nice they were. There was no point in it.

"Hugo Evans?" The secretary looked up as he walked inside, her dark eyes flicking over him. She was pretty enough, mocha skinned and tall, but she lacked the aura of power and confidence Trowa was used to seeing on the adults he worked with.

"Yes." Trowa nodded to her politely. It didn't matter if he liked her or not, nor did it matter if he respected her or not. He would still be polite.

"Ah, good," Her eyes lit up. "You're right on time. The principal is actually waiting for you, if you care to go right in, and then we'll set up your schedule."

"Just put me in the hardest classes here," Trowa told her, making her roll her eyes. She started pecking at the keyboard, however, and Trowa was relieved that he might not actually have to argue with her. It would save him time and excuses that would probably be put to better use later. After all, he couldn't really send them his old transcripts, and telling her the reason he wanted the hardest classes was classified probably wouldn't work in his favor.

Following her instructions to meet with the principal, Trowa allowed himself to be waved into a large, leather chair. "Welcome to Stonewall," The principal offered, smiling. He was a balding man, heavily built with a belly straining at his shirt. He shifted and the buttons almost seemed to creak.

Trowa gave a nod in greeting, settling back in his chair and folding his hands politely. It was a posture he'd often seen Quatre take in meetings with other, older exceutives who thought he was only playing at being a CEO for his father's company. The position had a tendency to force the men meeting with Quatre to regard him a little more seriously, and Trowa was thankful to see it worked very similarily with the principal. "Thank you, sir."

"I'm sorry about the trouble we have with your transcripts, it seems there was an issue getting them to Earth from L4. I've discussed this with the guidance councilor and secretary, and we have agreed to work with you on a schedule. Of course, we didn't think it was likely you would want all high level courses. It might be a slight issue if you decide on that."

"I am qualified enough to take them." Trowa frowned slightly, a simple quirk of the lips as the man's eyes narrowed.

"There is no record, and we could not even reach the school by phone or e-mail. There seemed to be an issue with the server." The Principal looked nervous, though Trowa wasn't sure why.

"My family was given a week to prepare for me. If the amount of time was unsuitable I should have been informed." Trowa's reply made the man flinch, almost as though he'd be physically struck. It was slight, however, and Trowa doubted anyone else would have noticed. He had touched on a weak spot, then. Excellent.

"It is hardly the fault of this fine establishment," The man blustered.

"I never implied it was," Trowa answered blandly, deciding that Quatre was rubbing off on him, perhaps more than was healthy. "Just place me in the hardest classes you can, and there will be no issues. If need be, I can have Lady Une or Vice Minister Darlian vouch for my former education."

"Th-that's hardly necessary," The man waved a hand. "Of course not. We'll have you placed in the appropriate classes, of course. We would hate for you to fall behind on your education."

Trowa almost rolled his eyes, allowing the man to dismissed him after checking that Trowa had a reader for his textbooks--all on data disks--and that he knew the rules and regulations of the campus. Trowa paid little attention, not caring much about the rules or the regulations, and then made his way back to the main part of the office to take his schedule from the secretary.

The secretary was just as chatty as the principal, and Trowa quickly learned he was the first colonist to attend the school. He also discovered, while looking at his schedule, that none of his classes would take any real_work_. They were simple classes about things he'd been forced to learn while training as a gundam pilot.

Heading down the hall he paused briefly at his locker to hang up his coat, then headed to his first class. Recent World Events. His eye twitched. Because part of the war had been caused by ignorance, Relena had insisted that all schools make students take a class on current events every year. Unfortuantely, Trowa was _part_ of those recent events, something he didn't care to have brought up in class. Stories about the Gundam Pilots in the recent wars tended to be exaggerated and over-rated, just as the role they played in the Preventors was stretched out of proportion.

In fact, Trowa realized as he looked over his schedule and found calculas and English followed by French, that the only redeeming class he had that semester was Physcial Education. Trowa sighed. He was fluent in French already, but it was that, Spanish, Latin, or Japanese. He already knew every last language the school offered. He was also stuck in physics and a class about the history of the colonies as well. More things he already knew. Yawning, Trowa paused at the door of his first class. The he shoved open the door. "Excuse me," Trowa greeted, holding out his schedule, "I'm the new student."

The teacher blinked at him, then smiled. "You're the colonist," He grinned excitedly. Frizzy white hair--looking as though he'd shoved a finger into an electrical outlet--bounced haphazardly as he moved with far too much energy for a man of his age. Thick, coke-bottle glasses slid constantly down his nose, reminding Trowa of the black specs Harry wore. This man's, however, magnified his brown eyes to nearly twice their orginal size. "Excellent. Which do you hail from?"

Trowa blinked. "The L3 cluster, orginally, but I've been living on L4 X-04129 and have visited the other clusters and Earth several times."

An emotion that could only be labled as pure _delight_ flickered across the man's face. "Good, good! All these students, they've never been to the colonies. You know how difficult it is to teach about something no one has experience in? You'll offer a new, fresh perspecitive! Forgive me if I call on you often, but you will know more about these things than they will. After all, unlike on Earth, people in the colonies didn't have too many choices about getting involved in the wars if they were attacked, right?"

"If the colony was breeched, everyone was in danger, yes." Because the space colonies had an atmosphere that needed containted, fighting near the colonies could place everyone at risk. Crashing through one of the walls could easily kill everyone on the colony. Unlike on earth, where as long as no one landed on a building with people, there was less risk of injuries. "Where may I sit?"

"Oh. Oh!" The man blinked rapidly. "My apologies, boy. Sit there, in the front. No assigned seats, you know, but first come first serve. That one will do for today, however."

Trowa nodded and took his seat as the man continued to ramble. "We don't have a textbook for this class, but we use the newspapers. Are you still receiving news from the colonies? What about your friends up there? Are they offering any news you can share? How long have you lived on L4? Were you ever caught in a battle? These students, they've never seen a battle, but its a rare colonist that hasn't, I've heard. . ."

"I have seen battles, yes." Trowa pulled his notebook from his bag and found a pencil. "The colonies are rather small, so when a battle got close everyone saw it."

"Exciting, aren't they? I lived there during the first war," The man admitted. "Decided Earth was safer when the second came around. Not up to running so much, you see. From L2 X-00752, in fact. But one of the nicer colonies. Not those vermin holes they call colonies. They need cleaned up, they do. Heard about young Winner donating all that money to them. He's a good kid."

"I have also heard of it. However, I believe I inturrupted something when I arrived?" Trowa gave the man an almost pointed look, somewhat afraid of drawing another tangent. The other students sighed. They had been glad when the teacher was pulled off track.

"Yes, yes, of course. My apologies, class. We were discussing the recent Eve War, since it was only a year ago, and trying to decide how they could have been prevented." The teacher nodded. "Of course, there were the extremists that said the colonies should have been exterminated. How would this have solved the problems? Not to say, you understand, that this is the correct idea, but it was _one_ idea. Now, discussion?"

"No colonies, no war." One girl ventured, looking almost sick. "But they'd kill so many people. . . "

"Excellent. It was hardly fesable based on loss of human life. There were also people saying that the Gundam Pilots were clearly responsible. This was later proven untrue, though there are still several conspiracy theories on the idea. Can anyone tell me about that?"

"Because they had at least one pilot there, even if he defected in the end," One boy called. Trowa hid a smirk. It was still unknown about Trowa's spy work.

"The Preventors could have done better," Another boy called. "Everyone says they had information ahead of time. How could they have not known?"

"Information is hard to pin down on that stuff," A girl argued. "Maybe they know what it meant _now_ and didn't then. They're just people. They can't know everything."

Trowa nearly dropped his head on the desk. How did he get stuck in this pathetic class? No one here had any real information; they were just guessing and running their mouths. "You have something to add, Mr. Evans?" The teacher smiled almost daringly, like he expected Trowa to be ill informed on the matter.

"The Preventors had very little information. Just that a faction was plotting something. Several spies were sent in to discover it, but no one is perfect. Especially not when the information is extremely disjointed." Trowa knew that for a fact. He had seen the information later. There was no way Une could have seen what was going to happen, no matter how bad she suspected it was going to be. There had simply been no proof.

"Have an in on that, do you?" The teacher looked Trowa over, and Trowa almost smiled.

"It's classified." He told the man, then put his head down. The man's eyes sparked from something, but Trowa didn't care what, and he ignored the discussion the rest of the period. He didn't care to remember things so fresh in his mind today. People might have through war was glorious, but the truth was, war was terrible. Trowa did not regret his part, and fully believed in what he did for the colonies, but that didn't make the images of the dead fade any faster. It didn't make their screams go away. It didn't make their deaths easier. It didn't mean Trowa didn't regret the need for them to die. It just meant he would do it again if necessary. Even knowing the consequences.

Even so, cursing Treize didn't get him very far. He had other things to do. Like live his life to make up for the carnage he'd caused in the past. Trowa sighed again. He had a feeling this class was not going to be very fun.  
**oOooOo**

Every class in school was terrible. Trowa knew high school would be torture, but never that it could be so bad. Every class he was forced into was something he'd already learned. Language was ridiculously easy, Physics was child's play--and he meant that rather literally--literature was the only subject he was lacking slightly in, but before colony literature was incredibly useless when he was tracking down criminals. Unless they were highly intellectual criminals, and he rarely ran into anything of that sort. Not even Treize had used before colony literature, and--loathe as Trowa was to compliment the man--Treize had been incredibly intelligent.

He slept through nearly every class, resting his head on his folded arms, not even bother to pretend he was paying attention to things he'd been forced to learn years ago.

"Hugo Evans!" The heavy hand slamming into his desk in Physics class was not the first, nor would it be it the last. The teacher, an older woman with keen brown eyes and mousy brown and gray hair pulled into a bun, scowled at him. She was plainly furious, and Trowa was somewhat surprised she could hit the desk so hard, since she was slender and petite. Frail-looking, in many ways.

"Yes?" Trowa skillfully kept the boredom from his voice as he allowed himself to look her over, green eyes flicking over her small frame. "May I help you?"

"Go answer the question on the board," She snapped, obviously irritated. Trowa wasn't sure why, half the class looked asleep, but he was fairly sure he was the only one wo actually knew what she was talking about. "Now!"

"Hai," Trowa grunted, using Japanese because he knew it would confuse the woman. He rose to his feet gracefully and walked silently to the chalkboard. They had colonies in space, but this school still refused to get rid of their chalkboards. Trowa nearly snorted. How was anyone so behind in technology?

The problem on the board was one Trowa was very familier with. He'd had to do it thousands of times to check entry points into the Earth's atmosphere for anything he'd ever flown. Frowning at the board, Trowa checked it for the proper information and started to quickly fill in the needed equation. "What are you doing?" The woman shrieked, flying toward him. "That's the wrong--"

"No, it's not." Trowa continued working, finally circling his answer. "That's right."

She stared at him for a moment, then at the board. Her eyes narrowed. "Go stand in the hall until the bell rings. I'll deal with you tomorrow."

Trowa shrugged apathetically and gathered his things, moving to the hall. Was there a reason his teachers were so spastic? First they seemed to like him, then they got angry with him for knowing perfectly obvious things, and then they ignored him. Or sent him into the hall. He could have fought her, but it wasn't worth it. It wasn't like he wanted to sit through class, anyway. Now all he needed was for his day to get worse.  
**oOooOo**

Trowa tried to keep out of things for the rest of the day, but whispers followed him everywhere. His near explosion--for him, at least--in his current events class, his display of "incredible genius" in physics, and his origin had caught the imagination of the gossips all over the school. He was a dirty colonist, a fascenation for the Earth-bound students that had only dreamed of seeing a colony. Some of the richer students found him intriguing, but retreated at the full force of Trowa's icy demenor.

The teen longed for Quatre. Quatre could handle anything. Including--and especially--this.

Trowa absently caressed his phone, heading towards his last class of the day. Physical Education. The day had dragged on and on, and Trowa longed to at least call his lover, to try to keep the distance between them feeling a little less. . . far. He hadn't called Quatre the day before, since he was settling in, but he couldn't take it much longer. It was all he wanted to do.

Sighing, Trowa pulled on his gray gym uniform. Had the man choosing the school colors been completely colorblind, or just have bad fashion sense? Quatre never would have stood for this. He would have thought of something intersting, like. . . like. . . complimentary shades of gray. Or something like that. Trowa wasn't sure if gray could be complimentary. That was all Quatre's department, but Quatre would have invented _something_. And then teachers would like him so much, they'd just kind of go with whatever Quatre told them.

Since Quatre was currently on L4, however, Trowa was stuck in an elephant-skin-gray uniform. Right. Down. To. His. Socks.

Who the _hell_ wears gray socks with a gym uniform? Other than the idiot choosing the school's colors.

Stepping into the gym, long before the other students, Trowa had a chance to warm up and practice some of his acrobatics. Preforming a triple flip and landing perfectly, he found himself face-to-face with a very large, very angry woman. "Who in the hell told you to do that sort of thing without a spotter?" She snarled, and Trowa found himself blinking at her. He had seen her walk up, naturally, but that wasn't the expected reaction. "You could seriously injure yourself!"

"I won't," Trowa informed her flatly. He could do harder moves in his sleep, and constantly had to do difficult manuvers on missions, or even in the lab. All six pilots made sure to stay up to their harsh, physical standards just in case. "I never have."

"Your parents let you do this?" The woman had dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and stood eye-level to Trowa. He would have classified her as fat if the hardness of her body didn't indicate large amounts of muscle. Trowa suspected she could bench-press him if she wanted. He could beat her in a fight, of course, but the amount of muscle on her tall frame was impressive. Especially given that she was female. Most women did not want to build up so much muscle mass.

"I do not have parents." Trowa's green eyes were sharp. "And I was warming up for class. Is that an issue?"

"We do that as a class," The woman barked, expecting Trowa to cower a bit.

But this woman--a lot of muscle or not--was not as intimidating as a gun weilding, glasses wearing Une. No, this woman had nothing on the Lady. "I was early." Trowa shrugged. "And I know my limits."

"Every teenager I get says that." The woman barked. Trowa wanted to sigh. He wasn't her average student, even though he couldn't tell her that.

"When I kill myself you may gloat, then," Trowa informed her almost tartly, then returned to his warm up, flipping through the air a few more times and proving that he could gain at least twice the height she'd originally seen when he'd jumped. She scowled and Trowa carefully constructed his mask. This school was going to be the death of him.  
**oOooOo**

He stopped to pick up Harry on his way home, and then decided he didn't want to listen to Petunia or Vernon whine for another hour, at least, and took the boy out for ice cream. Harry's big, green eyes lit up in pleasure at the thought of the treat, and Trowa learned that Harry had never eaten ice cream. He didn't even know there were more flavors than chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla.

"What's your favorite, Trowa?" Harry liked to ask Trowa questions, but the elder wasn't sure why. Harry never asked his aunt or uncle anything. All his questions went straight to Trowa. Trowa knew he'd encouraged the child to ask him things, but if Harry was so curious, why didn't he ever ask Vernon or Petunia about anything?

"I prefer peanut butter, myself," Trowa pointed to one of the buckets. Harry frowned throughfully.

"What do you think I would like?"

Trowa blinked. "You seem like a mint-chocolate-chip kind of guy," Trowa finally decided after some moments of carefully deliberation.

"Can I try that kind, then?"

"You may." Trowa bought the cones and led Harry to a table in the corner, smiling as Harry licked his cone as slowly as possible while staying relatively clean. He was far too neat when he ate, but since it was cute, Trowa didn't say anything. It did make him wonder, however, what kind of childhood Harry had before Trowa had appeared in his life. What little Trowa had already seen was cause for concern, even if Trowa had no intention of letting Harry know.

Trowa's cell phone began to vibrate, and Trowa snatched it up, relieved to see Quatre's smiling face on the caller ID. "Trowa here." Quatre knew how Trowa answered the phone. Anything else and the blond would worry.

"Oh, Trowa," Quatre's gentle voice made quite a bit of the building tension release itself from steel-hard shoulders. "How are you? Was school all right?"

"We talked about the Eve Wars in current events." Trowa hated the reminder. Hated thinking about having to hurt a child in order to save the world. Quatre would understand.

"Are you all right?" Quatre's soft voice made Trowa nod absently.

"Fine." He glanced at the curious Harry, then switched abruptly to Arabic. "There are listening ears," He explained, telling Quatre about his first day at the Dursleys and how little he already liked them. He told the blond about Harry as well, and Quatre listened without a word. Trowa could tell he was frowning, because Quatre always frowned and went silent when he was deep in throught.

"Une already has the papers for your emancipation running, but it will be limited," Quatre admitted when Trowa finished. "You will have to remain near-by until you are eighteen, within an hour, but you need not live there. You don't even have to see them. I'm not sure why there is so much difficulty with this. I have not had any difficulty with my standing."

"You're also rich," Trowa pointed out, the conversation still in Arabic. "You can buy what I cannot, even with my fame."

"You aren't exactly poor," Quatre reminded him, and Trowa could almost hear the other teen rolling his eyes. "I think we could get Harry into our care, if you desire. It would only take a few signatures. Dudley too, if necessary."

"I want nothing to do with that spoiled lump," Trowa snapped, then patted Harry on the head to reassure the boy he was not angry. At least not with him.

Quatre's laugh was clear and a gentle reminder that Trowa wasn't alone in the universe. That he still had Quatre, and his other comrades. That meant a lot to him. "I'll talk to Une about Harry," Quatre promised, then changed topics to other, most relieving news. Trowa eagerly told Quatre about his terrible day and how boring his classes had been, and Quatre shared his terrible day of boring board meetings and clients.

Then he started talking about Duo, and Trowa's homesickness returned with such force he nearly started to cry. It wasn't so much that he couldn't have handled the situation, he was so unused to actually being homesick that he was unprepared for it. "Duo nearly blew up a lab," Quatre explained, laughing in delight. "And sent half the research and development team to the fall out shelter in the basement. It was great, because one of the R&D guys called me, all frantic, and started babbling about purple eyed monsters. He's new, you see, and this other guy grabbed the phone and yells, 'Shinigami strikes again!' then hung up with the new guy still squawking in the background. Then--Lover? Are you all right?"

"I don't know, QT." Trowa never used the nickname that Duo had offered to Quatre a few times in the past. Trowa found it somewhat strange and Quatre told him to use it when he was upset over the phone. It was very difficult to read Trowa, especially when one couldn't see him.

"Talk to me, lover," Quatre ordered. "Tell me what's bothering you."

"I miss everyone," Trowa confessed. "And. . . you know, everything. I miss not cleaning Duo's, Wu Fei's, and Zechs' hair out of the vacuum, or tripping over Duo's damn boots, hearing Hiiro curse in Japanese when he gets frusterated, cleaning up Wu Fei's nasty tea, and. . . and holding you. I miss the smells of our house, because they're so different, like we are, and I miss everything. Hell, I even miss _Une_."

"That's called homesickness, Trowa," Quatre's voice was so gentle. "And we miss you, too. Duo was just complaining how he didn't have to pound on the wall last night, and Hiiro commented on not threatening to shove your flute up your ass if you left it on the stairs again."

"I miss that, too," Trowa laughed a little. "I want you here. Or, better yet, I want to be _there_."

"It won't be much longer." Quatre offered. "We're coming as soon as we can."

"I know, but it's not soon enough." Trowa smiled at Quatre's reassurance anyway. "I can't wait to see you, little one."

"No QT?"

"I think once a conversation is plenty." Trowa admitted. "I love you, QT."

"Fuck you, Trowa," But Quatre's laughter made Trowa smile. "I love you too, teddy bear."

"Quatre!"

Trowa could hear Quatre laugh harder, and he was probably rolling on the floor of his office, if the rustling was any indication. "I really do love you," Quatre was slightly breathless, but happy. "I'll talk to you later, lover."

"I love you too, little one." Trowa's voice was soft as he and Quatre said their final good-byes and cut the connection. Harry continued to stare at him, making Trowa remember, somewhat belatedly, that the entire conversation had been in Arabic and Harry hadn't understood a word.

"You know another language?" Harry's awed words made Trowa blink, shifting abruptly back to English.

"Several," Trowa nodded. All the pilots spoke multiple languages: Arabic, Chinese, English, French, German, Japanese, Latin, Russian, Spanish, Protugese, and a the strange dialect favored by the Sweepers. Trowa orginally thought it was a bastardized version of Creole (which he knew bits of, mostly curses) but it appeared to be a basterdized version of English mixed with Creole, Canadian French, and Mexican Spanish instead. The group decided desrection was the better part of valor and never asked. Of course, it was particulairly handy to curse in since the curses in that language alone took up their own dictionary. If one knew enough, he could become very creative. Quatre was exceptionally good at it, to all of their surprise. Apparently Duo did not have the only potty-mouth among them. If anything, when he was incredibly riled, Quatre was actually worse.

"Can you teach me?" Harry almost begged. "I want to learn one, too. Can I learn the one you were just using?"

"I don't think that's the best to start with," Trowa admitted. "Why don't we start with German or Latin?"

"Latin?"

"It's handy enough," Trowa shrugged. For being a dead language, the bigwigs certainly liked it. Apparently they loved it for legal code, and it was also useful because much of the medical jargon and a lot of biology were based in Latin. Harry, however, would probably get little use from Latin. "I think you'd like German. It's similar enough to English, really. They're cousins, in the language world."

"Really?" Harry's green eyes lit up. "You're so smart, Trowa!"

Trowa managed a small smile ruffled Harry's dark hair. It was time for them to return home and for Trowa to decide just how he was going to let them treat Harry. He wasn't going to watch them make the child a slave in his own house, and he certainly wasn't going to let eny of the Dursleys boss him around. Nothing annoyed him more.

Drving home, Trowa found that Vernon had left a special place for the car where the entire neighborhood to see. Trowa ignored it and parked on the street, then collected his and Harry's bags and headed toward the house. "I want you to go to my room and wait for me there. Lock the door so Dudley can't get in, understand?" Trowa handed Harry both bags and allowed him to run up the stairs while Vernon stomped toward them.

"Where in the hell have you been?" Vernon snarled. Trowa's eyes narrowed.

"Harry and I were getting ice cream, and I was speaking with one of my comrades."

"Harry should have been home to start supper an hour ago, Hugo!" Petunia snapped. "You shouldn't have kept him from his chores!"

"Harry is_nine_, in case you haven't noticed. He shouldn't be in the kitchen unsupervised," Trowa's voice was cold. "And I'm not going to allow you to treat him that way any longer. He will be staying in my room for the remainder of the two weeks I will be here, and he will be leaving with me. Should either of you raise a hand to him in that time, you will not like the consequences. From here out, you will treat us as boarders. We won't eat your food, nor will we help you make it. The check you receive for me will cover room and ammenities for Harry and I."

Trowa turned and tread silently up the stairs, his back tense. He would hear Vernon approach, if he tried to chase Trowa down, but he and Harry were not going to be staying in this house long. It wasn't even two weeks anymore. He knew Quatre was working on everything as fast as possible and had the connections to push it along.

"They're mad at me, aren't they," Harry looked sadly at the door as Trowa entered, listening to the Dursleys yell. "I don't want locked in my cupboard."

"They won't." Trowa managed a smile for Harry. "I will ensure that. Is there anything from the cupboard you'd like to keep?"

Harry blinked, then nodded. "I have a blanket," He explained, looking embaressed. "I've had it forever, and I think my parents gave it to me. . ."

"I will fetch it and your clothes tonight." Trowa told him, sitting on the bed and pulling out his homework. He also flipped open his phone and dialed Rashid. If they were going to ignore the Dursleys for two weeks, they'd need food for it. Trowa would normally have gone himself, but he didn't trust the Durleys at the moment, and didn't care to leave the house and offer them a chance to destroy Harry's things before Trowa could collect them. Rashid was more than happy to agree to Trowa's request for help, ordering a few of the Maganacs to get moving, and Trowa snapped the phone closed. "Supper will be late, tonight, as we are not going to be gracing the rest of our illustrious family with our presence." Trowa also had every intention of going shopping Saturday. Harry was not going to look like a rag-muffin while he was around.

Harry pulled out his own homework, eager to finish it, and Trowa smiled slightly as Harry's little tongue poked from between his lips as he concentrated. It nearly made Trowa sigh. But at least they wouldn't have to deal with this much longer.

Trowa had a feeling he'd go ZERO if they did.  
**oOooOo**


	4. Reach

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Four  
Reach

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned it all. I'm _broke_ people. Between gas and groceries, I have no money to take, even if I was sued.

**Warnings:** 1x2 3x4 5x6 (Making this yaoi, obviously); Harry cuteness, stupid Dursleys (Oh, wait, they're _always_ like that. . .)

**Author's Note:** Well, here we go. Chapter Four. Nearly ninty reviews for three chapters and my jaw is hanging somewhere by my knees. That's a record for me. Thank you all so very much. I'm glad you all like it enough to give me that many reviews!

_To Lady Gaia__  
and  
everyone asking about Hogwarts:_ There is magic, but any Hogwartian adventures will be left for a sequal, should I choose to write it.

_To MoonGun:_ While it may amuse you to learn that Duo is actually my all time favorite character, I just couldn't see anyone but Trowa related to Harry. And I'm such a snob. . . it couldn't be anything _but_ 3x4! I'll read other parings, but Trowa and Quatre are just _too cute_!

_To Shinigami Ryuuk AN'07:_ Trowa and Harry are related through the Evans side. Trowa's father was the elder brother of Petunia and Lily. Does that clarify things?

_ABOUT HEERO'S NAME!_: Heero or, in my case, Hiiro, is not misspelled. I checked the katakana. From katakana to romanji, the most literal translation would be "hi-i-ro yu-i." I am not misspelling it, I am simply using an alternate to what you are used to. I am not going to change it. Please do not tell me it's wrong, as I have seen it spelled, "Heero," "Hero," "Hiiro," and "Hiro." There is, in reality, nothing wrong with any of those spellings because of the nature of translation. Thank you.

_To Everyone:_ Thank you all so much for reading, and for all the lovely reviews! I'll try to update as best I can, but I still make no promises. Like always, I ask you review but do not hold chapters hostage for them and, also like always, I have one more request. . .

Please enjoy chapter four.**  
oOooOo**

Rashid didn't go to the front door, instead choosing to toss stones at the window until Trowa pushed it open. Harry looked at him curiously, and shyly poked his head out when Trowa invited him over. His small face lit up at the sight of the hamper in Rashid's hand. "That's for us, right Trowa?"

Trowa smiled, only a slight quirk of his lips, but Harry saw it. He leaned further out the window, saved only by Trowa's hand gripping the waist of his too-large pants. "Don't lean so far," The elder chidded slightly, pulling him back in. Harry laughed, looking almost awed that someone cared enough about him to save him from falling and to scold him. Petunia and Vernon never scolded him for doing unsafe things. They just liked to yell at him.

Harry glanced at Trowa again, frowning. "How will we get the basket?"

Trowa ruffled his hair, his smile growing. "You let me worry about that." It was the work of a moment for Trowa to grab the small bag Harry had placed on the bed the first day and dig out a slender coil of rope. Harry tilted his head, curious. Trowa lowered it from the window, waiting for Rashid to attach the basket and step away.

"Master Quatre sends his regards," Rashid called up, softly. "And has added a gift to the basket."

"Another one?"

"You will appreciate it. He has also told me to return tomorrow and take anything of imporance of Harry's to the house. There is no reason to keep it here where it might be destroyed."

"Thank you, Rashid. And convey my thanks to Quatre. I will call him tomorrow."

Rashid nodded and slipped away, leaving Harry marveling at the ease the large man could move. "How does he move so quiet?"

Trowa leaned down, smirking. "You want to know?"

Harry's green eyes lit up, and he nodded furiously, standing up a bit. Trowa winked at him. "It's a secret."

"No fair!" Harry squealed, jumping and nearly hitting Trowa in the nose. Trowa was lucky being a gundam pilot gave him good reflexes, or Harry would have bloodied the organ. Harry went white, his eyes growing wide. "I'm sorry! I--I didn't mean too--"

"Harry, calm down." Trowa put his hands on the boy's shoulders and hugged him close, rubbing his back. Harry was almost hyperventilating, fear making him panic. Small hands fisted in Trowa's shirt and tears began to wet his shoulder as Harry continued to apologize, pleading with Trowa not to hit him or lock him in the cupboard. "It was an accident, Harry, I'm not mad." Trowa's reassurances fell on deaf ears, and Trowa finally gave up and muttered soothing non-sense and continued to hug the child.

Harry cried for nearly twenty minutes, leaving a large wet patch on Trowa's shirt. When Harry finally cried himself out, he was fast asleep, still clinging to Trowa like a limpet. Trowa gave a gentle smile, choosing to leave the boy asleep for the moment, and tucked him into bed, slipping from the room. The Dursleys had left to go out to eat, since Harry hadn't cooked for them, and Trowa decided it to go ahead and raid Harry's cupboard for his things.

It left Trowa nearly breathless with fury. The dingy cupboard was filthy, covered in cobwebs and dust. Trowa saw several spiders of varying size scuttle from the light as he opened the door, hiding under the tiny cot that filled the back of the cupboard. Clothes were tucked away on one shelf, and crayon drawings were taped to the wall. Trowa frowned, gathering up the drawings, and then turned to look at the cot. The blanket Harry wanted was obvious, it was old and worn, clearly well-loved. Folding it carefully, Trowa glanced around again, then gathered Harry clothes. Little as he liked them, they were all Harry had to wear until they went shopping over the weekend.

Trowa's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the "room" again. The child had no pillow, and only the worn, threadbare blanket. There were no toys in the room, and the dim light in the center was flickering. Trowa's jaw clentched, lips thinning. The way the Dursleys had treated this child was terrible. And Trowa would assure that it would not happen again.

Stiff from anger, Trowa quietly carried Harry's things up the stairs and stepped into their room. The child was still asleep, leaving Trowa to tuck his clothes away in a drawer and pack the drawings and blanket into a bag for Rashid to take in the morning. Then he moved toward Harry.

He was loathe to wake the child, but Harry needed to eat. He was severely malnourished, and Trowa had seen every one of the boy's ribs when he had changed him the day before. "Harry," Trowa shook him gently, "Time for supper."

Black brows furrowed for a moment before green eyes fluttered open. "Trowa?"

"Here," Trowa moved to set out the food. "It is time to eat. I got your blanket and clothes, and I also took your drawings. I will send the drawings and blanket with Rashid when I see him, but I will store them in my car so no harm will come to them."

Harry straightened his glasses and nodded, still looking exhausted. He stuffed food into him mouth almost carelessly, then let Trowa help him change and tuck him back into bed. Hygiene was important, but Trowa would overlook it until morning. Harry was exhausted and Trowa had a feeling he wouldn't be able to stay up long enough to brush his teeth. Trowa explored the basket for whatever "gift" Quatre had left him, and grinned upon finding it. "Thank you, little one," he murmured softly, eyeing the shiny new deadbolt for the door. It was the work of minutes to install it, and would prevent the Dursleys from entering without express permission. Something Trowa had no doubt they would attempt.

Sitting at the small desk in the room to finish his homework, Trowa glanced at Harry. It was so sad to know even part of what Harry had been through, living with the Dursleys. Harry had so very little, and even though Trowa planned to change that it was sad he needed to in the first place. Harry had obviously never had much of a chance to be a child.

Packing away his books after completing the boring--and time consuming--homework, Trowa also decided it was time for bed.

Harry woke at three in the morning, screaming at the top of his lungs and sobbing. Trowa snapped awake, gun in hand before he could think. He was used to hearing nightmares, but reacting with a gun was also ingrained. Seeing that it was just Harry, the gun quickly disappeared. "Harry?"

The boy stared up at him, eyes wide, hand clamped over his mouth. Trowa smiled and sat next to him, wrapping an arm around him. "I didn't mean to scare you," Trowa offered, pulling the gun back out and showing it to the child. "It's a habit."

"You won't shoot me?" Harry's frightened face unburied itself from Trowa's side. "Uncle Vernon said he would if he got a gun. . ."

"I promise I will never shoot you." Trowa's green eyes were level and serious, meeting Harry's squarely. "You never need to worry about that. I only shoot in self defense." Which was true, even if he and the other pilots had a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later if the other person was also armed, but Harry didn't need to know that.

Pounding on the door ruined the moment. "Shut the hell up, boy!" Vernon snarled, trying to shove the door open. Trowa smirked and moved to unlock it, letting Vernon in. "What's going on in here?"

"Harry had a nightmare." Trowa stopped Vernon at the door. "Go back to bed."

"I'm going to give him the beating of his life," Vernon snarled, trying to shove Trowa out of the way to move toward Harry. Trowa stopped him, glaring and pointing the gun Harry had just been admiring at Vernon's nose.

"Get out," Trowa snarled, pulling back the hammer threateningly. He wouldn't shoot, but Vernon didn't need to know that. His piggy eyes grew wide at the sight of the barrel almost pressed to his nose. "Now."

"I'll call the police you ungrateful freak."

"You can try." One light brown eyebrow raised slightly. "It won't do you much good. Especially when they see Harry's old room. Not to mention the Preventors will be rather. . . disgusted. . . with you."

Vernon growled, then shoved at the door. "And where did you get that lock?"

"I believe that's my business," Trowa forcefully shoved Vernon out. "Now leave."

Vernon growled at him, but Trowa had already closed the door and locked it again. Vernon's eyes narrowed. He was going to make both of them sorry they'd crossed him!**  
oOooOo**

Trowa spent the next three days juggling school, the Dursleys, and Harry. He was lucky he had cleaned out the cupboard when he had, since Vernon went on a rampage and burned nearly everything in it that Harry had touched not twenty-four hours later. The look of relief on Harry's face, knowing his blanket was safe, was almost heart-breaking. Trowa vowed, yet again, not to leave Harry there.

Vernon tried to break into their room twice. Once late at night when he thought they'd be sleeping, and once during the school day when the two were out. When Vernon attempted to break in at night, he had been greeted with the muzzle of Trowa's gun. The second time, Vernon fell into a trap Trowa left for him and ended up stuck to the floor until Trowa arrived home and was then kicked out at the muzzle of Trowa's favorite gun. "Do that again," Trowa had warned him, still pointing the gun at his nose, "and I _will_ pull the trigger."

Vernon's shouts had gone silent; his face had paled. He hadn't attempted to break in again. He did try to tell Trowa he would be tried for murder, but Trowa pointed out Vernon was breaking and entering and it wouldn't hold up in court. But, of course, if Vernon wanted to try again, Trowa could hire a good lawyer while Vernon rotted in the ground. Vernon had made an excellent choice.

"Good morning, Trowa!" Quatre's bright voice made Trowa grunt softly as he rolled out of bed at seven in the morning on Saturday. "You called me yesterday about what to get Harry for the house?"

"What have you got for me?" Trowa was careful to keep his voice low so Harry didn't wake. The boy was exhausted. Even though Trowa had forced the Dursleys to drop most of his chores, he was still hounded constantly by his family and the other children at school.

"The house is plenty big, of course," Quatre's smile was evident. "And I've been having Rashid do a lot of the work, but I thought Harry might like to choose his furniture. We already picked ours out, before you left, but I know we can make a room just for him."

Trowa knew the house Quatre was talking about. There were ten bedrooms, twenty bathrooms, a full basement, a full attic, enough room in the garage for at least ten or twelve cars, and probably almost a hundred rooms all told. All the bedrooms the pilots would inhabit were close to each other, and Quatre had made sure Harry's room was near theirs.

"But what should I get him?"

"Buy him clothes, books, toys, whatever he wants, within reason. It'll be expensive because he's getting things he's never had before but things he needs. You have the credit card to my account?" It wasn't that Quatre didn't think Trowa could buy the things himself, but Quatre had begged. He wanted to do something for the child, and he had plenty of money. There was no reason for Trowa to use his own when Quatre had more than enough. He had begged to at least be allowed to pay for Harry's new things. Trowa, after much hounding (over the past three days), finally agreed.

"So, basically, everything he'd need if the house burnt down and there was nothing left." Trowa's reply was completely deadpan.

"Pretty much," Quatre agreed.

Trowa sighed. He hated shopping, would have preferred to leave it to Relena, but Harry couldn't afford to wait that long. His clothing was disgusting, he had no playthings, and Trowa needed to get him a bed for the house. "I hate shopping," Trowa allowed himself the luxery of whining.

"I know, lover," Quatre's voice was only partially symathetic.

"Thanks, little one," Trowa's dry reply made Quatre snicker.

"You love me."

"Yeah, I do."

Trowa could almost hear Quatre's smile over the phone. "Don't put off shopping," The blond ordered. "I love you and I'll see you soon. Got it, Lover?"

"Loud and clear. I love you too, and I can't wait, little one." Trowa softly hung up.

Harry stirred slightly, sighing in a way that meant he was close to waking. Trowa moved to him, rubbing his back and coaxing him to the real world. The child didn't seem to want to get up, burrowing further into his pillow, but Trowa knew to be persistent. It wasn't any worse than Duo had gotten during the war, on occasion. Never when they had a mission, but every once in a while, on their "days off" he would be hard to wake.

"Time to get up, green eyes," Trowa had quickly learned Harry's eyes were one of his favorite features, rivaled only by the cool, lightening bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Harry had also confessed that he liked his eyes better since he shared them with Trowa. Harry shared no other features with his living family, and Trowa's eyes seemed to make him think he was more closely related to Trowa than the Dursleys. Trowa had decided acknowledging that would help Harry realize that people cared about him.

"I don' wanna," Harry slurred, and Trowa smirked.

"All right, then." Trowa grinned, wrapping his arms around Harry and hauling him up, fingers dancing on Harry's sides. Harry shrieked, squirming and laughing. Trowa laughed with him. He'd never tickled Duo awake--he didn't care to get his arm broken, after all--but it was fun to tickle Harry.

"Stop!" Harry screamed, trying to tickle Trowa and quickly discovering the same thing that drove Quatre crazy. Trowa wasn't at all ticklish. "No fair! No fair! Trowa--! No fair!" Then Harry was laughing too hard to even protest, squirming and wiggling and kicking. Trowa stopped soon after, not wanting the child to hyperventilate, and left him panting and giggling, curled up against Trowa, head on the elder's chest.

"Are you awake?" Trowa smiled, stroking his hair.

"Yes!" Harry moved to smile up at his cousin. "No one ever tickled me like that before, though! That was fun!"

"Good. Now, time to get ready for the day." Trowa ruffled his hair again. "We have some shopping to do."

"Shopping? Like. . . for groceries?" Harry wrinkled his nose.

"You'll see. Go get ready," Trowa shooed him from the room, watching as he headed into the bathroom before digging out his own clothes. Trowa had showered before calling Quatre. With any luck, Harry would use the last of the hot water and leave his family a surprise.

It didn't take long for Harry to finish getting ready to go, and the boy eagerly bounced out to the car. Trowa had promised him breakfast out on Friday, and the two drove until they found somewhere to eat. Harry, who had never had French toast, was delighted to dig into enough for two or three. Trowa had some fruit, then finished off Harry's breakfast. Then it was off to the store.

Harry's slackjawed reaction to the furniture store made several people chuckle. "What's here?" Harry was clearly awed. "We can't fit another bed in our room."

"Not at the Dursley's, no," Trowa draped an arm around Harry's shoulders. "You didn't think we would stay with the Dursleys forever, did you? I have friends getting me emancipated. We need to get furniture for the new house."

"Y-you're leaving?" Tears filled the boy's eyes. "I mean. . . I know you hate it there, and don't want to stay. . . but I thought. . . maybe. . . since I was there that. . . you'd stay."

"Harry, listen to me." Trowa knelt to Harry's height, putting his hands on the smaller's thin shoulders. "I'm not leaving you there. You're coming with me. You'll live with my friends and me."

"You mean Hiiro?" Harry's eyes lit up. "And Quatre, and Wu Fei, and all them?"

"All six of us. But I do have something to tell you first, but you mustn't tell your uncle, okay?" Trowa smiled as Harry nodded. "Quatre isn't just my friend, green eyes. He's my boyfriend. Do you understand what I mean?"

Harry wrinkled his nose in thought. "Like a boy who's a friend?"

"Not exactly. Like. . . a girl has a boyfriend, we're just both boys."

"But Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia said people like that are freaks." Harry grew worried. "I don't think you're one, though!"

"I can assure you, I'm not." Trowa wanted to kill Vernon and Petunia even more, now that he was listening to Harry. "Nor are the others."

"So. . . no one would take me away from you? Aunt Petunia said that social services take kids from people like you, but I don't want them too." Harry wrung his hands.

"They wouldn't, don't worry."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

Harry's relief was almost palpable, the child gripping Trowa's hand tightly as the started through the store. "So, why are we here?" Harry's eyes grew larger and larger.

"We need to get you some furniture for your new room at Quatre's," Trowa smiled.

"Oh. Are the others like you and Quatre?"

Trowa blinked, then nodded, explaining who was dating whom. Harry listened intently, nodding. "Does it bother you?" Trowa finally asked, leaving Harry looking at him like he was out of his mind.

"No! I love you!" Harry threw his arms around Trowa's waist, clinging tightly. "Don't make me go away!"

Green eyes softened as Trowa looked at Harry. "I won't, I promise," Trowa hugged the child in return, gently reminding him why they were in the store as they headed towards the children's furniture. Harry, however, found the bed he wanted before then. It was made of oak and had only a light stain.

"Oh," Harry traced the smooth headboard, fingers rubbing over the decorative carvings in the wood.

"You like that one?" Trowa looked the set over. It had a dresser and desk, as well as a chest and bookshelf. Exactly what they were looking for, and it was obvious Harry loved the set itself. The smooth wood and pale color had caught his eye, and there was no reason the child couldn't have a double bed.

"It's beautiful," Harry continued to examine the wood with his fingers. "So smooth. . . like silk, right?"

"Close," Trowa had to agree. "Well, at least finding your new bed was easy."

"Y-you mean I can have this one? But. . . surely it's expensive. . . you don't have enough for this, right?" Harry looked terrified at the thought of spending money.

"I do have it, but the money we'll be spending isn't mine. Quatre insisted he pay for it all." Trowa smirked. "And he has plenty."

"But. . . but. . . I don't even know him! He can't buy me things; what if I make him run out of money?"

Trowa laughed outright. He didn't intend to, but the protest about Quatre running out of money was just too cute. "I don't think anyone could spend that much in a lifetime," Trowa soothed. "You remember Quatre's name?"

"Quatre Winner. So what?"

"Winner, as in Winner Enterprise Incorporated. Quatre is the head of WEI."

Harry's mouth dropped open, and the child went white, looking ready to faint. Trowa moved a little closer, ready to catch him if he needed to, and the boy gave a choked whine. "But he hates me!"

"He doesn't hate you. In fact, he's very excited to meet you. Why would he hate you?"

"But. . . but. . . Uncle Vernon said that Mr. Winner hates freaks like me! I wrote about him for a report once," Harry explained, looking up at Trowa with the innocent conviction only a child could have. "And Uncle Vernon said my report was terrible and Mr. Winner would hate me because I'm a no good freak."

"Quatre doesn't hate you. He doesn't mind that you're an orphan because he is as well. His mother died when he was but a baby and his father died in a colony explosion almost two years ago. Besides, Quatre doesn't hate anyone. Especially not you. And if you meant the elder Mr. Winner, he wouldn't have hated you either. The man just adored children. He could never have hated a child."

"Promise?" The look on Harry's face was so hopeful that it made Trowa's heart hurt. What kind of person told a child he was hated by everyone, even those he had never met?

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Trowa drew the requisite "X" on his chest, repeating the rhyme Duo had taught him during the first war. "Stick a needle in my eye."

"Ew!" Harry wrinkled his nose. "Where did you learn that?"

"Duo." Trowa winked at him, taking his hand. "Now, we may have your furniture, but we still have a lot of shopping left. Courtesy of Quatre."

Harry's face lit up with the most beautiful smile Trowa had ever seen, and the boy latched onto his elder cousin's hand, skipping after the taller boy. Harry had never been so happy in his life. His cousin had actually taken an interest in him, and Trowa loved him. Like Petunia and Vernon loved Dudley. Harry was also getting to leave the Dursleys' and live with Trowa, and maybe after Trowa turned eighteen he'd adopt Harry and Harry would always live with him!

Not to mention that Harry was getting all new things. A real room, a real bed, brand-new clothes that no one else had ever worn before, and all sorts of things! Currently he and Trowa were in a sporting goods shop, looking for a heavy winter coat for Harry. The boy didn't have one, but he needed one for the cold weather. "Harry," Trowa's voice snapped Harry back to the present. "How do you like this one?"

Harry looked at the coat, blinking in surprise. It was still hard to believe Trowa was buying him all these new things. "I like that one." The coat was black and green and blue, and it looked very warm. Not like Harry's old, tattered jacket.

Trowa nodded and dug around to find a hat and gloves that partially matched. He wasn't good at finding matching things, like Quatre or Hiiro or Zechs, but he could match black with black, at the very least. "How are these?"

Harry nodded, but toed the ground. "I. . . I found. . . Ireallylikethisone." Harry offered in a rush, holding out a different set and closing his eyes tightly. Trowa shrugged. The gloves were mostly black, with a little green the same color as the green on the coat, and the hat was green, gray, and black striped.

"They look nice," Trowa agreed, not bothering to check the price. Harry probably had, but prices were still a little confusing to the boy. It didn't matter if they were a little more expensive or not, if Harry liked them.

"Are you _sure_ I'll be able to wear all this stuff next year?" Harry frowned at the heavy clothes.

"We've bought them all too big for you, Harry. I'm positive not even you will grow that much in a year." Trowa's small smile was contagious, and Harry grinned happily.

Trowa requested Harry's tattered jacket be put in the bin, but Harry protested. "What about when it gets warm?"

"That coat has a removable lining. It'll be fine." Trowa handed the jacket to the sales clerk who grimaced as she took it.

"Has your little brother lost a lot of weight?" She smiled, though the too bright smile seemed pasted on. "He looks rather. . . thin. . . now." She turned her nose away from the stench Dudley had left on the coat.

"No, it was a hand-me-down from another cousin." Trowa knew exactly how she felt. "Please, burn it if you want, but I don't care to have to smell it any longer."

The girl's smile twitched. "Of course, sir. I'll just. . . toss that in this bag here and tie it like so, and toss it in this other bag and tie that like so. . ." The garment was no longer quite so smelly. All three gave large sighs of relief. The girl then rang up the new coat and dug out a pair of scissors to take off the tags. Trowa thanked her and helped bundle Harry up in his new things, making sure he was snug against the cold air before they headed back outside.

Harry clung to Trowa's arm, making Trowa half drag, half carry him as they walked along. "She thought I was your brother," Harry chattered, delighted. "I've never had anyone mistake me for Dudley's brother, but she thought you were my brother. Isn't that so great? I liked it that she thought you were my big brother. You didn't mind, did you? Being called my brother? Like we're family, you know?"

"Harry," Trowa had to smile, as Harry's joy was so infectious, "we are family. I'm your cousin."

"But I mean, like, real family," Harry protested. "Like Dudley has parents and all, you know, but I only had them, and now you, but having a brother is almost as good as having parents. Like you can't get rid of me, because. . . because we're closer than that. 'Cause. . . 'Cause we're brothers, not cousins, so you _have_ to keep me around. And. . . and you can't be mean to me because we're brothers, like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon aren't mean to Dudley, right?"

"Harry," Trowa knew, forcing Harry to meet his eyes. "I promise you, I will never get rid of you. I'll never want to. You are stuck with me forever." As little as Trowa had originally wanted to find his family, he couldn't say he regretted getting Harry away from the Dursleys.

"Everyone wants to get rid of me." Harry smiled. "So you don't have to keep your promise."

"I will keep my promise. I might get annoyed with you, and frusterated with you, and maybe even angry with you, but I will never, ever want to get rid of you." Trowa laid a hand on Harry's face, gently stroking his hair back in a gentle caress. Harry leaned into it, and let Trowa hold him close, like a father would his son. A gesture completely foreign to Harry.

The boy rested his head on Trowa's shoulder, letting the older lift him off the ground and carry him the rest of the way to the car. He wasn't used to being carried or held or loved, and he soaked up every bit of attention Trowa was willing to give him.

"So now where?" Harry was an extremely curious child, if he was allowed to be. Trowa smiled, starting the car.

"Lunch, then clothes."

"Are we eating out again?" Harry's eyes lit up. "Can we have pizza? I've never had it before."

Trowa clutched the steering wheel. If he ever saw the Dursleys again after he moved out, they'd better hope he was unarmed. They'd also better hope Quatre's lawyers were having a bad day in the courtroom. Because he was going sue them for every last penny they had.**  
oOooOo**

After lunch and clothes shoping, Harry looked much better. They had gotten him out of Dudley's old clothes and into clothing that actually fit. Harry looked uncertain about the new clothes, wondering if they were too tight, but Trowa had assured him they were fine. Harry, looking unsure, agreed and wore the clothes from the store.

Trowa also made sure to buy him new socks and underwear. Both much needed. The next stop was for shoes. Harry needed a new pair of trainers, a pair of winter boots, and a pair of workboots as well. If he was living with the Gundam Pilots he would certainly be running around with them, and Trowa just knew that Duo would rope him into helping at the shop Quatre had on the same property as the house.

"I really don't need all this," Harry protested as Trowa shoved a few boxes at him. "You're spending too much on me."

"Trust me, you need this." Trowa gather a few more boxes and led Harry to a stool to try on the shoes. His old shoes--if they could still be called shoes--were two full sizes too small. Trowa frowned. He needed to get Harry to a doctor soon, to make sure nothing was wrong since he had been mistreated so badly. Duo had tried to assure Trowa Harry would be fine and no lasting damage would be caused, but Trowa wasn't so sure.

"Now we're done, right?" Harry held up the bags with his shoes and let Trowa lead him back to the car.

"Not yet," Trowa tossed the bags in the trunk to join the others. He didn't even want to think of how much money he had spent. He mentally apologized to Quatre for the amount of money he'd spent, then mentally apologized again because he was about to spend more.

"More?" Harry was obviously tired, and probably growing a little cranky, but didn't want to seem ungrateful because no one had ever done anything like this for him before, but he was ready to fall asleep.

"Just a little. But you'll like this next store." Trowa didn't want to tell him their next destination until they arrived if he could help it. It didn't hurt that they were close.

"I'm hungry, too." Harry looked a little confused. "Why is that? I've gone long than this without food, so why should I be hungry now?"

"I've been feeding you three square meals and a snack every day, Harry. Your body has gotten used to it. You should be hungry. We'll eat after this next store, all right?"

"Promise?"

"Promise. Then we'll go home and you can get a bath before you go to sleep."

"Okay," Harry yawned, but forced himself to stay awake. He didn't notice Trowa pulling into a parking lot.

"We're here," Trowa sing-songed, opening Harry's door.

Harry blinked stupidly at him, then looked at the store. Green eyes widened, awe scribbled on his young features. "A toy store?"

"Of course. You need some toys, right? Come on, let's go." Trowa was delighted when Harry practically raced into the toy store, like he really was nine years old. He hadn't acted like a normal child since Trowa had known him, always too serious and with too many responsibilities.

Harry wandered the store, just staring at all the toys while Trowa drove the cart behind him. The child never asked for anything, picking up and discarding toys, but Trowa could tell the things he liked because his hands and eyes would linger just a little longer. But Harry didn't want to spend more money than he had already, worried he was spending too much. Trowa piled the cart with board games, a few decks of cards--the older boys would enjoy most of the classic games he was buying as well--but didn't bother picking up the video game system Harry had looked at, nor any of the games. Most of that sort of thing they got through WEI and there was no need, but he did find a selection of legos Harry had liked, and some outdoor toys like a football and basketball for summer.

Small toy cars joined the rest of the mass and Trowa lost sight of Harry for a moment. When he found the boy again, he was standing in the middle of the stuffed toy aisle, holding a large, shaggy black dog. It wasn't the biggest stuffed animal around, still a good size for hugging and loving, but Harry just held it out and stared at it, absently petting it's soft, silky fur. "Padfoot," Harry whispered, then hugged it.

"Do you like it, Harry?" Trowa paused next to the boy.

Harry gasped and turned, shoving the animal back on the shelf, then staring at it longingly. "I. . . Can I have it?"

Harry hadn't asked for much of anything on the shopping trip, usually protesting when Trowa spent money on him, but the look of desire for the stuffed toy on Harry's face made Trowa nod. "Of course. Do you like any of the others?"

"That one reminds me of you," Harry told him shyly, pointing at a teddy bear with green eyes. It was half the size of the dog.

Trowa burst into laughter. "Quatre always calls me teddy bear."

Harry blushed, but smiled. "Really?"

"Yeah. Toss it in." Trowa passed it to Harry and let the boy put both it and the dog in the cart. Trowa stared at the dog. It had weird electric blue eyes, and he really couldn't see Harry's draw to it, but didn't comment when the boy gave him a happy smile.

"The dog is Padfoot," Harry announced. "But I don't have a name for the bear yet."

"Why don't you call him Triton?" Trowa knew Harry wouldn't understand, at least not until he met Cathy, but he nodded and agreed with a smile. "We'll send all this with Rashid but your new coat and trainers, all right? You'll have to bear with the old clothes a little longer, but I don't want Vernon anywhere near them, all right?"

Harry nodded emphatically as Trowa called Rashid. He'd met them outside their chosen restaurant and take the things from the trunk, leaving only what Harry was wearing.

Trowa nearly sighed. He knew he was getting Harry away from that terrible family, but he couldn't help but feel he'd been years too late.**  
oOooOo**


	5. Annoyance

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Five  
Annoyance

**Disclaimer:** I'm still too young, too female, and too American to own Gundam Wing or Harry Potter. Yes, I know JK is a woman, but she's still older than I and British.

**Warnings:** Yaoi. 1x2, 3x4, 5x6, Cute Harry, evil Dursleys. . . oh, and annoyed Trowa.

**Author's Note:** My jaw is still on the floor from all the reviews. Thank you all so much! It's so great to know you all like my story so well! I'm having a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you like this next chapter as well as the past ones. Lastly (but far from least) a huge thanks to Tempest Rose, for editing FotBB. You may thank her for all the corrections.

_To holyllama:_ Thanks for pointing out my mistakes. I'm editing my own work, so I overlook things by accident because my brain _thinks_ one thing is there even though its really another. I'm also a total stickler for grammar (and have annoyed the shit out my friends with it occasionally), and I hate posting things that look unfinshed. I'm better about it when I have more time, but, you know how it goes. Still, thanks for pointing out the mistakes. No garuntees when I'll fix them, but it's nice to know about them.

_To Capricia:_ Harry finding out about magic is still slightly up in the air. I have something I'm debating about.

_To EVERYONE ASKING ABOUT PADFOOT (the stuffed animal):_ Harry seeing the stuffed dog triggered a memory. This is a true-to-life fact. Things that look/sound/smell/taste/feel familier can trigger memories. And I know Harry remembered the motorcycle and the green light, so there's no reason he couldn't feasibly remember seeing Sirius as Padfoot, with with proper trigger. The stuffed dog was Harry's trigger to Padfoot's name, but he still has absolutely no idea who Sirius was. Just that he vaugly remembers a dog named Sirius. So, yes, Padfoot's name is from a memory that Harry forgot he had.

All right, I think that does it for all my notes, so I'm going to shut up and let you get on with the chapter! So, please remember to review, and also, aboive everything else, please ENJOY!**  
oOooOo**

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Five  
Annoyance

Harry was asleep almost as soon as they entered the house that night, forcing Trowa to wake him long enough to take a bath. It was good Harry trusted Trowa so much, because the elder boy had to help Harry through the entirety of his bath, he was so exhausted. Trowa finally bundled him up in some of Harry's old pajamas, since he didn't want to give Vernon something to target by leaving any of Harry's new things at the house, and the change was terrible. Harry went from a normal-looking, happy child to a lost looking waif of a boy. The difference of having clothing that fit was astounding to Trowa.

Vernon pounded at the door near eleven, and Trowa ripped it open, green eyes glittering dimly in anger. "The hell do you want, Dursley?" Trowa snarled, angry because Vernon hadn't even cared that Harry was sleeping. Harry never mattered to him, and Trowa was mad that the child had earned so much of their scorn for no reason.

"Where were you today?" Vernon growled.

"Out." Trowa told him shortly, forcing his mask back into place. It wouldn't do to have his mask shattered by this pig. "Do not bother us again tonight."

Vernon purpled, but when Trowa reached behind him, as though for his gun, the man backed down, leaving the room noisily. Trowa wanted to slam the door, but closed it softly so Harry didn't wake, twisting the lock angrily. It was surprising Harry hadn't stirred the entire time, but the child had been so tired it was also understandable he'd slept through it.

His phone ringing made him jump. "Barton."

"Tro-tro!" Duo's cheerful voice was a surprise. He hadn't checked the caller ID and just assumed it was Quatre.

"Hello, Duo." It seemed Hiiro had let him off the leash for the night.

"Did shopping go good?" Duo's bouncy spirit made Trowa smile.

"Very well. I got Harry a lot of new things. He was extremely excited. Duo, he's never had toys before. His shoes were two sizes too small. His clothes were all worn out. He didn't have a winter coat. And--his family could have bought him all of that. Toys, new clothes, new shoes, a coat . . . they just didn't bother."

Duo went quiet, and Trowa knew he was simmering angrily at the admission, but Trowa had to tell him. He needed to get it off his chest. "It isn't fair," Duo said softly. "I know some children go without, but I always thought it was because their families couldn't afford better, you know? I didn't have a pair of shoes until I got to the orphanage. To hear that Harry didn't have this stuff . . . it makes me want to get revenge . . ."

"You can't kill anyone," Trowa hissed in Japanese, not wanting to risk Harry waking in time to hear that remark.

"I don't plan to," Duo waved it off, still speaking English. "I mean, maybe we can sue the pants off your Uncle or something."

"I claim absolutely no relation to that pig," Trowa scowled, switching back to English.

"In that case, you should be all for the revenge." Duo smirked. "Got any good information on Vernon Dursley for me and Hee-chan to work with?"

"I don't talk to them much. You'll probably just have to hack into the system to find it. All I know is that the man is high up in Grunnings Drills, is easily impressed with money, and annoys the hell out of me. Petunia stays at home, does nothing but watch TV, made Harry do all the housework, and annoys the hell out of me. Dudley could get away with murder here because they'd blame it on Harry, is dumb as a box of rocks, and also annoys the hell out of me."

"Is Harry the only one of them you like?" Trowa could picture the look on Duo's face, his dark brows raised, violet eyes glittering with amusement.

"The others are all pigs," Trowa muttered, almost sullenly. "Except Petunia. She's an ass."

"As in--?"

"The donkey. Ugly as a mule, only stupid."

"Mules are fairly intelligent, but so are pigs."

"I don't care to insult either. The Dursley's look like them, but they're stupid."

"Sounds like fun. Quatre's at a meeting and he won't get back until way too late to call, so I said I'd do it. Besides, I wanted to let you know that Hiiro was hacking into their bank account and trying to decide how much we could get from them."

"No stealing."

"Spoilsport," Duo grumbled, but agreed.

"Any of you." Trowa insisted, knowing that if he didn't make Duo promise for all of them he'd just get one of the others to do it.

"Fine. But I will find a way to make them go bankrupt." Duo huffed.

"Do it _legally_," Trowa ordered, rubbing his temples. He knew Duo was pouting from the tone of his voice, but the other reluctantly agreed again, promising for all of the pilots.

"Hiiro wants to talk to you." Duo finally told him after they chatted for a few more minutes, then tossed the phone to his lover. And Trowa knew he'd tossed it because he could hear air rushing past. He also knew because of Hiiro.

"Don't throw the phone, Duo," The Japanese called, probably from another room, before speaking into the phone. "Barton."

"Yui." It wasn't that he and Hiiro weren't good friends, but they were in the habit of using their last names as greetings on the phone. It drove Duo and Quatre to distraction on occasion.

"Duo told me to get off my ass and start looking for ways to make the Dursley's sorry they'd mistreated Harry."

"Sounds like all of you have taken up his cause." Trowa raised an eyebrow.

"We do not approve of their handling of him." Hiiro's voice was flat, but Trowa could still hear the disapproval in his voice. "And we will ensure they cannot do that to anyone else."

Trowa was all for revenge, but he didn't want Harry to think it was all right. Still, the Dursley's deserved some repercussions for what they had done to the boy. "I don't want to teach Harry revenge is all right," Trowa finally admitted.

"It is not solely revenge. They deserve consequences for their actions. We just realize you do not care to have a drawn out battle in court, so suing them would be unpleasant, though we could do it. I have some ideas that I will develop before I see you again. Then we will talk it over. Grunnings is a major company, after all."

"You already hacked in? Why did Duo ask me, then?"

"He wanted to check. As I said, we have some ideas. We will present them to you upon our arrival. Quatre will not be doing it alone, so do not ask him. He will have enough to do. He is excited to see you at the end of the week. The weekend after that we will arrive. Two weeks after that, Relena, Noin and Dorothy will be visiting. Hilde and Howard will be by the next Tuesday since Howard has a run bringing him near here and two weeks after Relena leaves Cathy will be there for a week to meet her 'new cousin.' The rest of the circus will be by sometime near the end of April to prepare for their first show the first week of June in London. Quatre's land is far enough in the country the animals may be housed there for a longer period of time." Hiiro's clinical outline of the schedule made Trowa sigh, because it sounded very busy, but he knew it wouldn't be nearly as bad as it sounded.

"Anything else?"

"Wu Fei sends greetings, as does Zechs. Quatre also told me to tell you that he loves you and is sorry he could not talk to you today. Apparently Duo scared R&D more than he thought. Even the veterans were somewhat freaked out."

"You've been around Duo too long," Trowa informed him with a slight smile. He could almost see Hiiro roll his eyes.

"We will see you in just under two weeks," Hiiro informed him, then hung up. Trowa couldn't help but smile a little wider. It was just like Hiiro, not to say good-bye over the phone. Trowa tucked the phone away, still smiling. Talking to the other pilots always put him in a good mood, even if it wasn't Quatre. Trowa shook his head before changing and crawling into bed himself.

The next week was bound to be a long one.**  
oOooOo**

"Trowa! Trowa! _Trowa_!" Harry's panicked screams woke Trowa the next morning. Trowa snapped awake, grabbed his gun and rolled out of bed. Harry wasn't in the room and the door was open and unlocked. Trowa shot down the stairs, nearly screaming in anger. Vernon had Harry pinned to the wall, one hand drawn back.

"You think that boy is going to take you out of here?" Vernon roared, gripping the front of Harry's shirt and shifting the child so he could slam him into the wall. "You actually think anyone _wants_ a freak like you?"

"Tr--Trowa!" Harry was sobbing by the time Trowa reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Put my cousin down, Dursley," Trowa snarled, not yet showing his gun.

"You going to make me, boy?" Vernon laughed, turning toward Trowa and shaking Harry mockingly. "What are you going to do? No gun now, is there. And I _know_ you can't take me without it."

Trowa glared at the man, his green eyes darkening as Harry reached for him desperately. One hand snapped out to crack into Vernon's arm, forcing him to drop Harry. Trowa swept the child into his arms, backing away. He could have taken Vernon bare handed, but Harry was his main priority. "Do not touch him again," Trowa warned, watching Vernon impassively as the man clutched his arm.

"If you did permanent damage, boy, you better believe I'll put you away!"

"If you hurt Harry in any way, shape, or form ever again, Dursley," Trowa regarded him with narrowed green eyes, though the rest of his posture didn't change, "I'll kill you."

"Is that a threat, boy?"

"I don't bother with threats anymore, Mr. Dursley." Trowa's entire demeanor seemed to shift, his appearance cool and impassive with only a shift in his eyes, his anger hidden deep in their green depths. Vernon shuddered at the coolness of his voice. If Trowa wasn't a kid, Vernon would have sworn the boy had killed someone before. As though to confirm the theory, despite his age, Trowa pulled out his gun and aimed it unflinchingly at Vernon's head. "Understand?"

Vernon gulped, scuttling backwards. "O-of course. You and the fre--boy--just stay out of my sight."

Trowa turned and went back up the stairs, carrying a still-sobbing Harry. The child was clinging to him like he was the boy's last hope, face buried in Trowa's shoulder. "Are you all right, Harry?"

"I--I just wanted a drink of wa-wa-water!" Harry wailed. "I didn't think I needed to wake you up for some water!"

"It's okay," Trowa soothed. "I'm not mad, I promise. You're old enough you should have been able to get it alone, but Vernon is very dangerous."

Harry nodded pathetically. "You're not mad?"

"No, Harry. Not at you." Actually Trowa was sad. Harry never should have been attacked. Not by Vernon, not by anyone. This was a time of peace. No one should have been attacked, especially not a child. That was the very reason Trowa and the other pilots had given up their own childhood. To ensure that other children, children like Harry, could keep theirs.

"What now?" Harry's brows furrowed and Trowa knew the child was trying not to cry.

"Some rules for the house while we're here," Trowa sighed. "I really didn't want it to come to this, but I'm afraid it has to. If you leave our room, I go with you. I don't care what its for or where your going--though if it's to the bathroom I'll wait outside."

Harry gave a small giggle, nodding. "But even to get a drink of water?"

"It's necessary right now. After we're out of here things will change. No one at our new house will attack you; it's just as long as we're around Vernon. Okay?"

Trowa could tell Harry wasn't happy, but the boy nodded all the same. He knew, as well as Trowa, that it was necessary. That didn't mean he had to like it. But Trowa also knew Harry would obey him. Harry wouldn't risk being forced to stay with the Dursley's, and Trowa couldn't prove that he meant to keep his promise to keep Harry and be his family until they were away from Vernon. Trowa offered a small sigh. One more week. Just one. More. Week.**  
oOooOo**

Trowa had to make some calls so Harry could transfer into a new school after they moved. They lived nearly an hour away from the Dursley's, to Trowa's relief, but it would require Harry changing schools. Harry hadn't minded at all, cheering when Trowa made the announcement, but he would have to work with the administration at it.

"What about you, Trowa?" Harry tilted his head. "Will you change schools, too?"

"I won't be attending anymore," Trowa looked up from his work. "I cannot explain why here, but I will tell you once we move, all right?"

"But Uncle Vernon says you need good grades to get a good job," Harry looked confused. "How will you take care of us if you can't get a job?"

"I already have a job, green eyes," Trowa smiled softly. "You let me worry about that, all right? I promise you don't need to worry about us having enough money, okay?"

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart," Trowa didn't bother with the last of the verse when Harry made another face.

"So why are you doing homework?"

Trowa shrugged. "Habit, I suppose. I don't care to leave it undone. I still need to make a few calls to get you set up in your new school, but that will all have to wait until Monday."

Harry nodded again, finishing his own homework. Trowa would have normally made him finish his homework first, but they had to get their shopping done Saturday so everything would be delivered in time for them to move in. Trowa sighed again. He wasn't used to the responsibility of a child, though he knew it would be easier when they were out of the Dursley's house.

Finally putting Harry to bed, Trowa made sure they had water in the room so Harry wouldn't have to leave for it, and tucked away his homework before going to bed himself. They were leaving this house Saturday and Trowa could hardly wait.**  
oOooOo**

Monday dawned bright and early, at least for Trowa, by Dudley pounding on the door. Trowa had never threatened the fat bully with his gun, and didn't care to do so. Threatening children just made him a bully, even if it probably would have done Dudley some good. Glancing at the clock Trowa decided Harry had a little longer to sleep and moved to the window to stare outside. He needed to call Harry's new school today, to check and see what they needed transferred over or what tests Harry would need to take to get in. Tuesday he would have to talk to Harry's current school to get the files transferred. Everything beyond Tuesday would depend on what the school told him when he called.

"Harry," Trowa shook the child awake gently, prodding him to get dressed and digging out some bread they'd bought the night before for breakfast. Getting him ready and to school didn't take a lot of time, and Trowa was glad Harry was such a mature and responsible child.

Then Trowa had to make his way to his own school. The Gundam Pilot stared at the box, heading calmly up the stairs and into the main office. The secretary blinked at him. "Is there an issue, young man?"

"I need withdrawl forms," Trowa told her, eyes flicking over her relaxed form. She had been filing her nails when he walked in.

"Why? Give up on school? Everyone else does," The woman snorted. "Finally turn sixteen and then they're gone."

"I have not given up on anything. I've moving an hour away. I will not remain in attendance here when I'm nearly an hour from this school." Trowa shrugged, taking the withdrawl forms.

"We need information to send your transcripts to your next school," The secretary didn't let go of the withdrawl sheet.

Trowa waited patiently, and the woman finally sighed and let go of the paper. Trowa said nothing more, just walked out of the room. There was no need for him to get his transcripts. He wasn't transferring to another school. He had other things to do.

"Leaving us already, Mr. Evans?" The quirky recent events teacher examined the form. "Where are you transferring to?"

"I will be living just east of Rochester, Kent." The man was far too nosy for Trowa's liking.

"Found some new relatives, have you boy?" The teacher sighed. "In my day, we were happy with the relatives we had."

"I'm moving to be closer to my friends and my sister."

"Oh, that's nice. I guess that's a good reason to move so quickly." The man was easily placated, but Trowa wasn't upset. The sooner the man quit speaking to him, the better. Trowa was tired of listening to the students dissect everything that had happened to him over the past two years. It wasn't their fault they were innocent civilians, but that didn't mean Trowa wanted to listen.

He put his head back down, blocking out the entire conversation. It really didn't matter if he failed the class. He was leaving.**  
oOooOo**

Harry raced outside to meet Trowa the moment the elder boy pulled to the curb, jumping in the car. "Dudley called me a liar!" Harry cried, throwing himself at Trowa. "He said you didn't really know Mr. Winner, or Vice Minister Darlian, or Lady Une, or, or anyone! He said that I was making it all up and the teacher believed him! She made me sit in the corner for lying even through I didn't lie!" Tears rolled down the boy's face, and he clung to Trowa like a limpet.

Trowa blinked in shock, wrapping his arms around Harry in surprise. Harry had never reacted to anything like that. "I know you aren't a liar," Trowa held him tightly, trying not to gape at the over-reacting child. "It doesn't matter what they said as long as you know you're telling the truth. What is important is that you and I both know I do know all those people."

"You're sure?" Harry sniffed. "I didn't like being in the corner."

"No one does, but at least we know you aren't really a liar, and in a week it isn't going to matter."

Trowa didn't take them home, stopping at the ice-cream parlor instead. Harry was excited; this was the third time he'd had ice cream in his entire life. There was no way Trowa would begrudge that. Harry eagerly got two small scoops of different flavors, eagerly licking at it while Trowa called Harry's new school. "You think I'll be okay in a new school?" Harry looked nervous. "Do you think they'll like me?"

"I'm sure they will. It's hard not to." Trowa smiled, and then turned his attention back to the phone call.

"Dobbin point Elementary, how may I help you?" The woman on the phone sounded a great deal nicer than the secretary Trowa had just dealt with.

"My name is Trowa Barton and I need to call about transferring my younger cousin to your school. I will be his guardian come Wednesday and we're moving into the district. What sort of forms will you need for him to start classes next Tuesday?" Trowa had considered putting him in Monday, but giving Harry a little extra time to adjust would probably be wise.

"Oh, well, isn't that nice? I'm Mrs. Strauss. Let's get some things filled out now. You said you aren't currently his guardian, but you will be Wednesday?"

"The paperwork has gone through, but I won't have proof or full government recognition until Wednesday."

"As long as you have it before he starts here, that's fine. Now, we'll need his transcripts from his old school, and I need some other information that we can fill out now. What's the boy's name?"

"Harry Potter."

"Age?"

"Nine."

Harry looked up from his ice cream cone while Trowa filled in the boy's information, smiling at Trowa before attacking the ice cream again. By the time Harry finished, Trowa had as well and was calling Lady Une to get his guardianship papers faxed on Wednesday. He had been planning to get Harry all signed out of school Tuesday, but he'd have to wait for the paperwork.

Une agreed to fax it to Quatre's residence near Rochester, Kent, and Rashid would take it to Trowa. Trowa forced himself not to look annoyed. It would only make Harry think something was wrong. And, as much trouble as this was going to be, that was the last thing Trowa wanted.**  
oOooOo**

Tuesday was just another day for Trowa and Harry. Harry was leaving almost everything behind, taking with him only the few clothes he'd kept with him from shopping. Trowa could be packed and ready to leave in less than ten minutes. He had only brought enough for those two weeks; Quatre would pack up and bring the rest of his things.

They dodged Vernon and Petunia all day, since the two were beginning to think they were doing something without letting them know--Trowa _still_ hadn't informed them he was leaving. They would get the paperwork Saturday as he left.

Harry raced into the room Tuesday afternoon, barely missing Dudley's kick as the two raced up the stairs, Harry holding what looked like a small plant tightly. "It's _mine_," Harry shouted at him, hiding behind Trowa. "I planted it and took care of it and the teacher gave it to me!"

"Harry?" Trowa should have known he was always going to feel confused around the child by now, at least where things like this were concerned.

"My teacher gave me this because she knows I'm leaving," Harry explained, too soft for Dudley to hear. "And Dudley's jealous because she gave it to me. But I helped her plant it at the beginning of school and I helped her take care of it, and I made sure to feed it and talk to it and everything."

The plant was a tiny, miniature rosebush, obviously still young, but very healthy. The pot wasn't too big, but it was colorful, and Trowa could see the small, ceramic saucer that went with the planter to catch the excess water with a small note for Harry from the teacher. _To Harry, with love from Mrs. Mosden. I enjoyed having you in my class this year and hope you enjoy your new home. Please take care of this for me._ The lip of the pot also said the pot was for Harry from his teacher.

"But I want it!" Dudley wailed. Trowa heard Vernon stir.

"Shut up, Dudley," Trowa stepped in, gripping the back of Dudley's shirt and spinning him around. "Go pester your parents. That plant was for Harry, and he will be keeping it."

"But I _want_ it!" Dudley shouted, stomping his feet.

Vernon appeared on the stairs. "What is going on? Can't a man watch the telly in peace?"

"Harry stole my plant!" Dudley fake-sobbed. "Make him give it back!"

"It isn't yours!" Harry shook the saucer at them. "It's mine! This says so!"

Vernon reached out to grab it, but Trowa gripped his arm, worried that Vernon would break it if he got his hands on it, just to upset Harry. "It is Harry's," Trowa informed him, eyes cold. "The pot and saucer both say so. You will not be taking it. Now get your fat lump of a son away from us."

"What, would you hurt him, too?" Vernon sneered.

"Not like you're thinking." Trowa shoved Vernon back, mindful of the stairs. "But I will spank him if I have to." The suggestion from Duo--who had received his fair share from Father Maxwell and Sister Helen--made Vernon go purple.

"I want it!" Dudley wailed again, and Vernon glanced rapidly from Trowa, who stood protectively in front of Harry and his new flower, to Dudley. Dudley's face was turning red, and the man finally tugged Dudley towards the stairs.

"You don't really want that girly flower, do you, Dudders?" Vernon managed a tight smile. "It's too ugly for someone like you. We'll get you a perfectly masculine and handsome flower."

"Now?"

Vernon glared at Trowa. Trowa ignored it. "Of course, Dudders," Vernon managed a tight smile. Harry put the flower on the windowsill, and Trowa made a note to move it. It was far too cold for the flower there, in midwinter. Vernon and Dudley thundered slowly down the steps and Trowa snapped the door shut, twisting the lock.

"I'm sorry I was so much trouble," Harry sniffed, wiping a hand across his face. "But . . . but . . . Mrs. Mosden gave _me_ the plant and said she'd miss me and she loved having me in her class. And . . . and . . . it was important to me."

"It was yours, Harry. There is no reason you shouldn't fight for it." Trowa could understand, even though he didn't want Harry to get into trouble on a regular basis, but the plant was his and Dudley only wanted to steal it because it was Harry's. "You did a good thing, coming straight to me. So don't cry. It worked out. Now, we need to move your plant. Our windowsill is too cold for it right now. We need to move it to the dresser. We can send it with Rashid tomorrow night when he comes with all our paperwork."

Harry sniffed again, and nodded, resting his head against Trowa. "I didn't tell the teacher, the office got a call from the school in Rochester, and so they told the teacher and she gave me the plant." Today was the first day Harry had walked home since Trowa arrived, but he hadn't minded. It had just given Dudley a chance to see the plant.

"So I'm really leaving?" Harry curled up next to Trowa, on the bed.

"Yes, we're really leaving."

"It feels weird," Harry admitted, softly. "This is the only place I've ever lived, even if it isn't really home. I want to go with you, but . . . I'm scared."

"This will be new for both of us," Trowa rubbed the boy's back, tucking the child close to his side. "I've never attempted raising a kid before."

"If . . . I know this is weird but . . . if I'm going to live with you . . . can I call you my brother?" Harry wrung his hands. "I . . . know it's stupid, but . . . you're like a brother, I think. I've never had one, but . . . but you're like I pictured a brother."

Trowa started slightly, staring at him with soft eyes, tears pricking at the corners. He never thought he would hear those words from a child, since he had, until very recently, thought he had no blood related family and was an orphan. Harry turned away slightly, fear underwriting his hope. "I . . . I know it was a stupid idea . . ."

"No, Harry, no," Trowa hugged him, feeling like the boy's elder brother for the entire world. "It's a good idea. I was just very surprised. Of course you may call me your brother. I would be honored to be called your brother."

A smile blossomed on Harry's young face and Trowa knew, without a doubt, that as hard as the road might be, he had made the right choice. Trowa nudged him slightly, to let him know it was time to get to up so he could do his homework, and Harry groaned, but got his backpack. It was still his old one, but Trowa had forgotten to buy a new one. Quatre had assured him he would handle it, but to leave the new bag at the house for Harry. Trowa had just shrugged and agreed.

Harry took the desk this time, leaving the bed to Trowa, and swung his feet as he worked, half-giggling in delight at gaining a brother.

Trowa couldn't help but smile.**  
oOooOo**

Wednesday Rashid showed up before Trowa and Harry left for school, paperwork in hand. "Master Quatre called me for this," Rashid looked a little annoyed about the early hour, but when Harry gave a shy wave, Rashid's face softened. Trowa traded the flower for the paperwork, and Rashid promised to get it to the house in one piece. "Do you want it in the conservatory or his room?"

Harry stared in shock. "There's a room for plants there?"

"Of course, young Master Potter," Rashid smiled at him. "Where do you want it?"

"Will it be okay in my room? Trowa said not to put it too close to the window because it's cold." Harry looked nervous.

"It will be fine either place."

"I won't be there," Harry told him. "Put it where someone can take care of it until I get there, please. Can we move it to my room after that?"

"Of course." Rashid cradled the pot gently in his large hands, waving as he moved to leave. Harry chewed his lip in a nervous habit that Trowa made a mental note to break.

"You think my flower will be okay?"

"I'm sure there is a gardener there that will know exactly how to take care of it. And I bet if you asked after we get there, he'll teach you." Trowa ruffled his hair, glancing over the papers. "These all look in order. Now we'll be able to finish withdrawing you from school and be prepared to leave at the end of the week. I'll get you off Friday, so Thursday will be your last day, but we won't tell Vernon that, all right?"

Harry nodded, clapping. A four-day weekend, then he'd be at a new school without Dudley! He'd miss Mrs. Mosden, but that was the only person he'd miss, and Trowa promised the child he could e-mail his teacher. Harry would give Mrs. Mosden Trowa's e-mail address, and once they got settled into their new house, they'd make one for Harry. The boy was extremely excited about everything: going to a new school, getting to use a computer, having a new family, meeting the rest of Trowa's friends.

"Time for school, then," Trowa announced, straightening his tie. Harry giggled. He still thought Trowa looked silly in his all gray uniform. Trowa only sighed and hustled Harry from the room, tucking the papers in his jacket, and heading towards Harry's school. He would have to stop by the office to finish the paperwork for Harry's transfer, and then he'd have to show the papers for his own withdrawl.

Harry dragged Trowa towards the office, face excited. "Miss Lang! Miss Lang! Trowa has my papers!" It wasn't quite a shout, but it was certainly close enough.

"Harry, you must be quiet," The principal was a pretty woman of Chinese descent. Trowa smiled. She reminded him of Wu Fei only because of her ethnicity, but it was nice to see even tiny reminders of home. "You're inside, _not_ on the playground."

"Sorry," Harry blushed. "But Trowa has the rest of my papers! He got them _just_ this morning!"

Miss Lang smiled and held out a hand. "Miss Lang. I don't believe I've met you before?"

"Trowa Barton. Originally Hugo Evans."

Miss Lang glanced at him, and then turned to hide a smile. "You don't look like a Hugo," She admitted, once she managed to get her smile back under control.

"I suppose not." Trowa shrugged.

Miss Lang nodded, looking at him, then Harry. "You two do look quite a bit alike. Not much, but you can see it in the sweep of your eyebrows. You also have the same noses and eyes."

Trowa shrugged again. His appearance didn't much matter to him. He was who he was, nothing more was important, but Harry beamed in delight at the comparison. "So we can finish signing me out now, right?"

"You're still attending through tomorrow." Trowa informed him, ruffling his hair. "Now go to class while I finish the paperwork."

Harry huffed in frustration, already trying to skip class at the tender age of nine. But he went anyway, obeying Trowa with little protest. Miss Lang chuckled. "Aren't you a little young to take on a child?" She asked, her dark eyes laughing.

"No," Trowa held out the paperwork. "Here are my guardianship papers and limited emancipation papers."

"Only limited?"

"The government lackeys have a stick up their collective ass." Trowa was deadpan. "I've been taking care of myself for sixteen and a half years but I can't survive on my own until I'm eighteen with the jobs I have."

"Oh?"

"I work part time two places, and have good healthcare for both. Both jobs also pay a pretty penny. Now, I need to sign those forms for Harry."

Miss Lang sighed. High school students had no sense of humor these days. The wars must have destroyed that, too. Like everything else. Miss Lang quickly finished the paperwork and showed Trowa where to sign. Attaching copies of Trowa's emancipation and Harry's guardianship papers to the sheets and giving Trowa a copy of the transcripts. Trowa thanked her and bowed slightly before leaving. Miss Lang rolled her eyes at him. No wonder he proved himself responsible enough for a child even on limited emancipation. His funny bone had obviously been misplaced. In someone else.**  
oOooOo**

Once Trowa had all of Harry's paperwork, everything seemed to move smoothly. It seemed to be too good to be true, but with Lady Une, Relena, and Quatre making sure everything had been rushed through and properly done, it had been easy. Trowa couldn't find it in him to complain.

"He's mine," Trowa announced to Cathy, relief evident in his voice.

"Good!" Catherine Bloom gave a sigh of relief. "I knew it would all go through, but I worried anyway," She admitted with a laugh.

"You don't need to now. I'm holding the paperwork and I just finished signing his transcripts. He's all ours now." Even though it wasn't on his face, Trowa's smile was in his voice.

"I'm so happy," Trowa knew her lips were curled in the biggest smile possible. She paused, and Trowa knew the smile was gone. "How bad is he screwed up?"

"We'll find out." Trowa rubbed his face, pulled off his blazer, tie, and white button down leaving him in dress pants and a white undershirt before pulling on a deep, green turtle neck Quatre had asked him to run a few errands to prepare the WEI branch in London of their arrival. For the most part Quatre would be able to work from the much smaller branch in Rochester, but would have to make the hour long drive to London at least twice a week. Trowa was making it that day to finish a few preparations Quatre had left and make sure the proper departments were notified about their additions.

R&D apparently had a heads up from the department on the colonies. "Please, Mr. Barton, don't let him in here!" The head begged, on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. "_Please_."

"He'll only be in here twice a week, calm down. Quatre is letting him work near the house most of the time. We all will be. What did you hear about Duo, anyway?"

"Between him and ice eyes?" One of the younger workers asked, shivering. "It's supposed to be terrible!"

"Hiiro only shows up to drag him out. And he isn't known for blowing anything up."

"We heard about his glares," a woman protested, looking scared.

"Trust me. You won't be dealing with him three quarters of the time."

Relief seemed to press down on him and the R&D department gave a ragged cheer of relief. "We work out of the house a great deal."

He was quickly shown out after that confession, to his relief, and the teen hurried upstairs to find the office Quatre had specified for him to check. Going through paperwork and talking to the secretary, Trowa discovered everything in order. All five of them were ready to begin there.

He grabbed lunch before heading to the Preventors headquarters in London, going for a quick tour and being shown to their offices. Une had assured them they would be working in a similar capacity there as home, so the office was small and cramped but probably wouldn't get much use. They had a tendency to spend more time at their home than the building because there wasn't much for them to do in the building. Usually because Duo took the "Top Secret" folders home.

Glancing at his watch, Trowa realized he had just enough time to get back to Little Whinging to pick Harry up from school. He called Quatre to tell him that everything was ready for them, and hurried towards the school. He was only going to have more issues if he made Harry walk home again. He'd seen the glares Dudley had been casting at his cousin all morning. Probably still over that flower.

Trowa sighed. He couldn't wait to be gone.**  
oOooOo**


	6. The Winner Heir

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Six  
The Winner Heir

**Disclaimer:** I'm still a girl, still American, and still too young to own either series. Sorry folks.

**Warnings:** Now with blatant slash, and evil!Quatre. Oh, and cute!Harry. Aw, who am I kidding? Harry's nine. Of course he's cute.

**Author's Note:** So I stole some time to post, and I'll probably be gone until after school ends because my exams are going to eat me in the next couple of weeks. I probably won't be posting until after school ends, and I'm sorry, but real life (tm) has called. I do want to thank everyone that has been keeping an eye on this story and reading it so diligently. All the reviews are absolutely wonderful and I just love reading them. You've given me a lot of suggestions and ideas. Some may happen, others probably won't. But it's still nice to hear your thoughts. I also want to shout out to dentelle-noir and jess-eklom because they're awsome. Seriously. They helped me a lot with this chapter. If it wasn't for them, you wouldn't be reading this. Thank you two so very much!

_To Shadowgal ANBU:_ Um. . . I'm sorry I got you hooked? But if you want to lynch me, I can assure you there will be a line. Jess will probably kill me first. Slowly and painfully. Since I value my life, I'm not allowed to abadon this story, no matter how long updates may take me.

_Violet Shadows:_ I'm glad you like the style. I've been very nervous about the pace of the story, it's nice to hear you like the pace I've set and to know that I'm not dragging it too much.

_To LdyGossamer:_ Don't worry about the Dursleys. I have _plans_. Mwahahahaha.

_To puretsubasa:_ There is magic, but it is all accidental at this point. And the title is not a reference to Dumbledore. In fact, I always forget he's associated with a bee until people remind me. Was actually chosen for two reasons. One is based in the idea that physics dictates a bumblebee can't fly even though they clearly do (flawed theory. . . where would the world be without physics?), and the others is because I love the classical song "Flight of the Bumblebee" and I think it fits Harry.

_To Potterwing:_ The term "ice eyes" isn't mine, I've seen it used in several fics, but I'm honestly not sure who started it.

_To Everyone:_ Thank you for all the reviews! I just love reading them all! They make me incredibly happy to see, and since I'll be stressed these next few weeks, I know I'll appreciate them all the more! I will remind everyone where that it'll be awhile before the next update, since I'm going to be out of my mind busy, and I'm also going to remind you that it's because of time constraints and not because I hold my stories hostage for reviews.

Before I stop the notes, I must ask that you watch the formating. I've noticed a slight mess up in the italics in one of my author's notes, and I'm worried is eating my formatting. If the italics are running together and the formatting is mess up, can you let me know so I can make sure to fix it? Thanks!

Moving on, though. . . one more favor.

Please enjoy chapter six!  
**oOooOo**

Quatre smiled deviously and rubbed his hands together after Rashid dropped him off and number four Privet Drive. He knew he had told Trowa he was going to be coming in Saturday, but everything had fallen into place to let him leave a day earlier than planned. He hadn't told his boyfriend, wanting to surprise him. It also didn't hurt that Quatre would be able to scare (or was it scar?) the rest of the disgusting family Trowa was living with. Trowa had told him all about how they treated him and Harry, and just how Trowa felt they would view their relationship. Since they would be up for breakfast, that would just make his entrance all the better.

Quatre coolly tapped the button for the door bell, listening carefully as the measured clicks of a woman's heels indicated it would be Petunia opening the door. Allowing his sixth sense to expand, he could feel her annoyance at whomever dared to call on them so early. Pulling open the door, Petunia gave Quatre a level stare hiding it behind a fake smile, just in case the neighbors were watching. "Hello. What do you want?"

Quatre nodded graciously. "My name is Quatre Raberba Winner. I thought I would drop into your humble abode for a visit."

Little as Quatre liked the Dursleys, it would be a lot more fun to butter them up and then let them know exactly what he thought of them. Quatre gave Petunia a smile twice as fake as the one she'd offered and held out a hand.

"Are you another one of those neighborhood boys pulling pranks?" Petunia sniffed. "I will be informing your mother of this."

"My mother is dead, and I am Quatre Raberba Winner." Quatre dropped the friendly hand and crossed his arms. "I can offer proof, if you'd like."

"No thank you," Petunia gave another fake smile. "You had best hurry and get ready for school. And don't come back." Her smile dropped and she turn to snap the door shut. Not angry enough to arouse suspicious from the neighbors, but enough to let Quatre know he wasn't welcome at number four Privet Drive.

Quatre stiffened in a cool rage, frowning. "Excuse me?" He muttered, reaching for the buckle of his belt where he kept small set of lockpicks hidden out of habit. "Did I _say_ you could slam the door in my face?"

It was the work of a moment to pick the locks on the door and make his way into the house and toward the kitchen where he could hear Petunia trying to make breakfast. From the terrible clattering it seemed she was out of practice. It fit perfectly with what Trowa had said the Dursleys forced Harry to do. Petunia wouldn't have lifted a pan for breakfast in years.

"It's terribly rude to slam doors in your guest's face." Quatre told her, almost too pleasently.

Petunia screamed, dropping the pan she was holding. The cookware narrowly missed her foot, causing her to scream again, and making Vernon thunder down the stairs, a long, metal shoe horn clutched in one hand.

"What is the meaning of this?" Vernon barked, brandishing the shoehorn. "Get out of my house! Petunia, call the police!"

Quatre turned, dodging the shoehorn, and saw Trowa sneaking up behind Vernon with a gun, not yet seeing Quatre because of the man's bulk. "Trowa!" Quatre cried, smiling despite the serious situation. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Quatre? What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn't get here until tomorrow!"

"I wanted to surprise you!" Quatre dodged the shoehorn again and glared at Vernon as he grabbed it in mid-air. "Attempt to hit me with this thing again and you'll still be paying off your lawsuit to me when you're ninty!"

Vernon choked at the threat, then it was almost like a lightbulb went on in his dim mind. "Quatre?"

"Quatre Raberba Winner, thank you," Quatre huffed.

Quatre yanked the shoehorn from the large man's hands and tossed it to the side, then glanced at Trowa, looking coy. "What, no good morning kiss?"

Trowa crossed the space in three paces and swept Quatre into his arms. "I missed you," Trowa told the blond huskily, pressing their lips together hungrily. Several high-pitched and somewhat choked squeaks drew them apart.

Trowa gave his lover a pleased smirk, giving him a fast, delighted kiss. "I think we surprised her."

Quatre sighed, mischief glittering in his eyes, but his face disappointed. "Trowa, I keep telling you, you aren't supposed to send your family into conniption fits."

"But it's so much fun," Trowa murmured softly, his hot breath washing over Quatre's ear and making the blond shiver. Quatre smirked, turning to press his lips to Trowa's again.

Vernon stared at them both, caught somewhere between anger Trowa's "unacceptable" behavior, and disbelief because he had _the_ Quatre Raberba Winner, head of the most powerful corperation in the Earth Sphere, in his house. "What are you doing, boy?" Vernon finally thundered after the two finished greeting each other. "You shouldn't even be in the same _room_ as someone as important as Mr. Winner! What makes you think you can even _touch_ him?"

Quatre and Trowa exchanged looks. "Well, he is my _boyfriend_," Trowa pointed out flatly, raising an eyebrow.

Quatre snickered, but didn't have a chance to say anything before Petunia--who had finally managed to overcome her shock--broke in and ushed Quatre into the living room. "Would you like some tea, Mr. Winner?" She asked, settling him on the couch. She seemed to recognized his name well enough, even if she hadn't recognized him. "I'll send that boy out of here right away, of course. You shouldn't have to deal with riff-raff like him."

Quatre opened his mouth to say something, but Trowa gave a shake of his head. "I would love some tea, of course," Quatre agreed, turning pleasent at the blink of an eye. Trowa smiled. Of course his lover would be able to keep those two busy until he got his and Harry's things together.

Trowa slipped up the stairs and pushed the door to his and Harry's room open, and was immediately greeted by a terrified boy. "You're okay," Harry sobbed, throwing himself at Trowa and clinging tightly to the teen's waist. "I was so scared you'd get hurt!"

"It takes a lot to hurt me," Trowa soothed, hugging Harry tightly. "It was just your aunt and uncle making a big deal because I got another surprise this morning."

"You did?" Harry's eyes grew wide. "What is it?"

"Not a what," Trowa corrected, smiling. "Who. Quatre's here a day early."

"Really?" Harry let go of Trowa to spin around in excitement and then wind his arms around the elder's waist again. "I get to meet him today?"

"Once you get dressed and ready to go. We're leaving here today." Trowa smiled and watched Harry rush around to get on his new outfit--not one of Dudley's, those would all be left behind--and pack the few things left in the house. Mostly his school things and some underthings, stuffing it into his ratty backpack. Trowa made another mental note to buy him a new one before he started school again. Packing his own things was the work of a moment, and Trowa quickly made sure there was nothing of their's left in the room. He didn't bother to take the lock off the door, nor did he leave the keys.

He did, however, leave it locked.

"I'm going to take this stuff to the car now, and I'll meet you downstairs. Quatre won't let anything happen to you."

"But how will you leave?" Harry looked worried. "If you don't come down with me."

"Out the window." Trowa smiled. "Don't worry about me. I'll be back in just a moment, all right?"

Harry looked uncertain, but nodded anyway. The thought of Trowa jumping out a window, even if he told Harry not to worry about it, was still terrifying anyway. But Harry left without further argument, making his way down the stairs. Trowa locked the door again, pocketing both keys that Quatre had sent with the lock, then calmly leapt from the window, twisting several times before he landed and tossing their things in the car. A large file folder with a note on it in the first seat made him smirk. Quatre would want that, Trowa just knew it. Tucking it under his arm, he glanced at the house and smirked, wondering if Quatre had managed to make Petunia faint, yet. He really should find out.

**oOooOo  
**

Harry sneaked down the stairs, peaking around the corner to see a petit blond sitting on the sofa before he stepped gingerly into the room. "Mr. Quatre?" Harry asked, wringing his hands. "Trowa said to come down."

"Did he?" Quatre smiled, shifting enough for Harry to realize he wanted the child to come closer. "And what's your name, green eyes?"

"You must be Mr. Quatre," Harry announced, throwing himself at the gundam pilot. "Only Trowa calls me green eyes. I'm Harry. Harry Potter. But Trowa said I could use the name Barton if I wanted."

"Did he really?" Quatre's smile widened as he caught the child effortlessly, swinging him into a hug, then setting him back on the ground and allowing him to back up several steps, looking unsure of himself.

"Yup. But I think I want to keep my own name, because I like it too. Anyway, he told me that after he got all the papers and stuff. And he said I'd get to meet you. I was really scared at first, you know. Uncle Vernon said you'd hate me, because I was a bad boy and my report about you was bad, but Trowa said you wouldn't hate me because you really liked kids and that you were really excited to meet me."

"You wrote a report about me?"

"Uh huh. I wrote it last year, when I was only eight. My teacher said it was really, really good. I let Trowa read it and he said it was good too!" Harry gushed as Vernon slowly purpled in the corner. Quatre watched the man out of the corner of his eye while he kept Harry occupied, worried Vernon would attack the child.

Petunia had slipped from the room and retrieved Dudley, causing Quatre to twitch and make an aborted reach for his gun when the large boy thundered down the steps, the house creaking as he moved. Harry tugged anxiously at Quatre's shirt. "That's my cousin, Dudley," Harry whispered hotly into his ear, glancing at the larger boy. Quatre nearly cracked from the fear in the small child's eyes. "He's not very nice."

"I shall keep that in mind, green eyes," Quatre murmured in reply drawing Harry closer to his side and sitting back up to regard Dudley coolly. He couldn't loathe the boy until he had a reason, but Harry's words were concerning.

Dudley looked at the petit blond, frowning. "Mum said you were a COE," Dudley simpered, looking pouty. "I'm going to be a COE one day, too. Daddy said so. But I thought that was a _man's_ job. You're not very manly. You look like a girl."

One blond brow raised. How rude for that child to say such a thing! Had Dursely taught him no manners? "I beg your pardon?"

"That's my Dudley, always such a jokester!" Vernon slapped the boy on the back, laughing raucously, his humor obviously forced and fake. "Dudley, greet Mr. Winner _properly_."

Dudley wrinkled his nose, but turned to Quatre. "Hello, Mr. Winner." The boy grumbled, unhappy. The only time his parents made him behave was when there was "important people" in the house. That didn't mean he liked it, but Vernon had explained that being nice to important people made one rich, like they were, and being mean to important people made one poor, like the freak.

"Good morning, Dudley." Quatre smiled, holding out a hand for the boy to shake. Dudley shoved Harry out of the way to eagerly grab Quatre's hand. The blond frowned and steadied the green eyed child. He was beginning to like this entirely family less and less. From the corner of his eye he noticed Trowa step into the room. "Are you all right, Harry?" Quatre hadn't missed the boy rubbing his arm where Dudley had purposely run into him.

Quatre shifted to seperate Dudley and Harry, and moved to check the boy's arm. Vernon, who hadn't said anything to Harry, finally snapped. "Get away from him, boy!" Vernon snarled, crossing the room in three strides, his face the color of black current. Harry's eyes widened, and he moved a little closer to Quatre. "You want nothing to do with him. He steals and lies and is nothing but trouble," Vernon snapped, one meaty fist reaching for Harry. The child blanched and closed his eyes, expecting pain to burst in his vision from Vernon's tight grip.

It never happened. Quatre swept Harry behind him, grabbing Vernon's outstretched arm. "That is quite enough," Quatre snarled lowly, teal eyes sparking from something Vernon didn't recognize. Trowa stiffened, but made no move to step in, despite the lingering insanty he noticed in his lover's eyes. If Vernon made a misstep, Quatre was likely to go ZERO. "You have been glaring at Harry this entire time! What on earth did this child ever do to you?"

"He's been stealing since he got here," Vernon tried, and failed, to yank his arm from Quatre's tight hold. "He's worthless and can't do anything right, and he thinks he's better than my Dudley, even though he has no money and no parents."

"There are a great deal of people who do not have parents, Mr. Dursley," Quatre's voice was frigid. "Now, I highly recommend you step away from Harry and return to your corner. Understand?"

Vernon paled and nodded, retreating to his corner as Petunia hustled Dudley away from the crazy blond. Trowa smirked. "I love it when you look ready to kill something," Trowa murmured, hot breath washing over Quatre's ear and sending a plesant shiver down the blond's spine.

"Trowa!" Harry sniffled, throwing his arms around the teen. "You're okay. I was scared you'd be hurt."

"It wasn't far to fall," Trowa soothed, hugging Harry in reply and handing Quatre the file folder.

Quatre's smile turned polite and business-like. "Excellent. Thank you, Trowa. Now, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, we are almost finished here. I just need you to sign these papers before we go." He flipped the folder open and moved to the last page. "Please sign where indicated, Mr. and Mrs. Durlsey."

"What's this?" Petunia glanced at the thick pile of papers.

"Something I absolutely must do since I came for a visit. Mostly to stay out of the papers." Quatre's smile regained the ZERO edge, but the Dursleys didn't know the blond well enough to notice. Quatre might have looked innocent, but he was a shrewd businessman. The three Dursleys fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. "If you could please sign where indicated?"

"Shouldn't we read it?" Petunia worried, taking the offered pen.

"It's just a standard form," Quatre replied, pointing to the line. "I wouldn't bother, personally. I'll send you a copy after it's filed. You may read it then."

Trowa was forced to turn his face perfectly blank. Duo might have been the best at twisting words and carefully restructuring the truth, but of all the Gundam Pilots, Quatre was probably the best liar of them all. He had to be, to make it in the business world, as he was forced to lie about everything from his age to his position. Trowa and Hiiro were believable in their own right, since they had no inflection and made it almost impossible for people to distinguish between a lie and the truth, but people were more likely to belive Quatre. Duo was insistent it was because of his baby-face.

This time was no different. Petunia took the pen and set it to paper, signing her name with a flourish. Vernon repeated the gesture before tucking the papers back in the folder and handing it to Quatre. It was obvious the two thought they were doing Quatre a favor and that it would make them rich and famous. "Thank you so very much," Quatre told them, handing the folder back to Trowa. "I think it's time for us to go! Trowa, Harry, come on."

"Excuse me?" Petunia's voice was shrill. "Where are they going?"

"Leaving. With me." Quatre pulled out two of the sheets. "This is Trowa's legal claim to Harry and his partial emancipation papers. We will be living just to the other side of Rochester, Kent. That isn't quite an hour from here. Every month, starting two months from now and ending when Trowa is eighteen, you are required to come by and ensure their living conditions are suitable. It will not, of course, be a problem. Also, while you are in my home, you will adhere to my rules."

"We didn't agree to any of that!" Vernon snarled.

Quatre smiled. "Of course you did. It's all in the papers you just signed."

Petunia opened her mouth to protest, but Quatre cut her off easily. "You will receive copies of the papers, and it is your own fault you neglected to read them before signing them. If you wish to keep the newspapers and your business contacts from finding out how deplorable you treated the child, you will obey every clause and sub-clause written in the contract. And do not attempt to threaten me with business, Mr. Durlsey. No one will defend your claim. They will all be too concerned with loosing support for their business from WEI."

Vernon snarled, his face the color of an overripe plum, saliva spraying as he spoke. "Is that a threat, little boy?" The man attempted to use his size to intimidate the Winner CEO, looming over him angrily.

Quatre raised an eyebrow, unimpressed at the large man's attempts to cow him, and coolly wiped the spittle from his cheek. "A threat, Mr. Dursely? _I_ am a _Winner_. We do not make threats. We state facts. And, should you choose to go against me, you will find it is, indeed, a fact. Do you understand, Mr. Durlsey?"

Vernon looked unsure of himself, since his massive size hadn't bothered Quatre at all, and he could in no way, shape, or form match the resources Quatre could call upon. "Perfectly, Mr. Winner," Vernon mumbled, allowing Quatre to side step him and move toward the door.

"We are quite finished here, Trowa," Quatre announced, tilting his head arrogantly. Trowa hid a smile. "Now, let's depart before this. . . lummox. . . decides to throw another fit. I fear for the structural soundness of his house, should that occur."

Vernon flushed again, but Quatre had taken Harry's hand and was headed to the door. "Good day, Mr. Dursley. I will have a copy of these papers sent to you on Monday."

Harry watched in awe as Petunia glared at Quatre, then at her husband. She gestured wildly, not caring how powerful Quatre was in the business world, Vernon could certainly put the _teenager_ in his place while he spent time in _their_ home. Vernon paused for a moment, but shook his head. Quatre half turned to look at the two of them. "Wise choice, Mr. Dursley," The blond said, softly, and revealed the gun in one hand. Vernon's eyes grew wide.

"You wouldn't dare shoot that," Petunia squeak.

Quatre gave a ZERO laced smile. "Do you wish to test that theory?" He asked as Trowa led Harry from the house. "Because I think it would be most. . . unwise of you."

Petunia glanced at Vernon, then outside where Trowa and Harry stood, patiently waiting. Vernon shook his head. He wasn't going after anyone with a gun. Quatre stepped from the house in his moment of indecision and tucked his gun away before the neighbors saw it. Petunia and Vernon stared after the trio as Trowa drove them away, pale and shaking. Those children. . . were anything but normal.  
**oOooOo**

Harry covered a giggle at the look on his uncle's face as they drove away. "What was so important about all that paperwork, Mr. Winner?" He finally asked, controlling his giggling fit.

"It's just grown-up things, Harry," Trowa broke in softly, not wanting the boy to worry about it. "Are you glad to be leaving there?"

"It's hard to believe I'm not going back," Harry admitted, twisting in his seat to stare at the only place he'd ever lived. "I mean, stuff like this doesn't happen to bad boys, but I've always dreamed of it. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia said no one would ever come for me, though. No one wanted me, and the only other family we have is Aunt Marge."

"Marge?" Quatre and Trowa exchanged looks. They'd never heard of her before.

"Uncle Vernon's sister. She's not _really_ my aunt, but I have to call her my aunt. She hates me too." Harry sniffled a little. "And her dog chased me up a tree last summer and Vernon just laughed at me. He said it was because Ripper hated bad boys, so he chased me."

"Well, you needn't call her your aunt now, and Trowa and I certainly want you." Quatre's eyes were warm and sincere, and Harry felt himself smile. As good as Quatre might have been at lying, he was even better at being sincere. Harry squirmed as Quatre continued to look him over, then the blond turned to study Trowa as well. Harry started looking worried at the close scrutiny, unused to being studied that way unless someone was going to start yelling.

"I didn't expect you two to look so much alike," Quatre finally admitted, turning to face Harry again. Quatre didn't yell, however, and Harry tilted his head curiously. He wasn't exactly sure what Quatre was talking about. Trowa had never said anything about them looking alike. "I'm rather surprised. Trowa didn't say anything about a family resemblance."

"I didn't notice," Trowa grumbled, but Harry smiled and leaned forward in his seat.

"Do you really think we look alike?"

Quatre forced himself not to gain a sad edge to his smile as desperation and eagerness crashed into him. Desperate to have family to look like him, to claim him, to love him. Eager to be compared to someone and not be told he looked like a freak. It made Quatre's heart clench in pain. "I wouldn't lie about that," Quatre told him gently, forcing his smile to stay soft and kind. "And you do. Mostly the eyes, I have to admit, but there are other things."

"Like what?" Harry's eyes were full of hope.

"Your nose, for one." Quatre's smile was infectious. It made Harry grin happily. "And you have the exact same smile. And eyebrows. Looking at you together I can tell you're related. And. . . well. . . you have the same hands."

"Hands?" Harry gave him a strange look while Trowa snickered. Quatre slapped his lover on the arm, but continued anyway, lifting one of Trowa's hands to show Harry.

"See? You both have long fingers, like an artist, and your hands are too big for your wrists, but they don't look out of proportion. I do wonder. . . Trowa's right hand is just a little bigger than his left. I wonder if yours is like that?"

Harry furrowed his brows, but clasped his hands together, flat, then nodded. "Just a tiny bit, see?"

Quatre chuckled. "I guess you two do have the same hands. Watch it, Trowa, next thing you know, we'll find you have the same fingerprints."

Trowa snorted, turning the hand Quatre was showing to Harry so he could give Quatre's own, slender hand a squeeze. "Don't be silly."

"I can't help it," Quatre complained. "I've been having withdrawls for two weeks!"

"Are you on drugs, Mr. Quatre?" Harry looked worried at that admision. Trowa forced back a snicker at his lover's poleaxed expression. "Drugs are bad."

"Oh, no!" Quatre laughed outright. "I mean I've been missing Trowa like crazy. It's a. . . euphemism. Don't worry, I'm not on drugs, I promise."

Harry eyed him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, then. As long as you were only missing Trowa. Mr. Quatre, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course you may, Harry. There's no need to check first. If I don't want to answer, I'll just tell you so. Is that all right?"

"So. . . so. . . Trowa wasn't lying when he said you didn't hate me, Mr. Quatre?"

"Of course not!" Quatre looked slightly outraged. "I could never hate you, green eyes. I won't say I'll never be angry at you, but I will promise you that no matter how angry I seem, I will never, ever hate you. Do you understand, Harry? Even older people get mad, but just because someone is upset doesn't mean they've stopped loving you. Love is very powerful. Stronger than anger, even."

"Promise, Mr. Quatre?"

"Of course, green eyes. But can you do me a favor?"

Harry looked scared, but nodded, his eyes filling with tears. Quatre's free hand moved to his heart at the sudden, intense sadness Harry radiated making the blond wonder what Harry was reading in those innocent words. "Can you just call me Quatre, please? Since you and Trowa are family, you and I are too. So there's no need to be so formal, all right?"

And the sadness was gone as fast as it had come, Harry's smile bright. The child swiftly agreed, sitting up straighter. Quatre glanced at Trowa, who raised an eyebrow. What had those dreadful Dursleys done to this child?  
**oOooOo**

The trio stopped for breakfast about fifteen minutes later. Quatre had announced that he was hungry, knowing Trowa would never do so and that Harry was so unsure of his place he didn't dare speak up. "There's a place near-by," Trowa agreed, turning down a side-street. "They have wonderful French toast and even better pancakes."

Trowa had said the magic word. "I _love_ pancakes. May we got there?" Quatre was excited. Duo had gotten him addicted to pancakes during the first war, so this was one of the many things Trowa could honestly say was all Duo's fault.

"You like pancakes?" Harry's tiny voice came from the backseat. "Really? Uncle Vernon said that rich people didn't eat stuff like that."

Humor sparked in Quatre's eyes. "What do we eat?"

"Fish eggs and snails," Was the disgusted, and plaintive, answer.

The gundam pilots roared with laughter. "Sorry, Harry," Trowa managed to control himself. "But one of our friends said the same thing when he first met Quatre."

"I must admit," Quatre chuckled. "I have eaten those things, but I was raised on traditional Arabic dishes, not necessarily things reserved solely for rich people. My family is from the Middle East, you see. I was introduced to some food from other places later, but it wasn't because I was rich that I didn't know what they were."

"So you're not English?" Harry tilted his head. "I don't think I've ever met anyone that wasn't English before."

"Trowa technically isn't." Quatre pointed out. "He's from L3, not England. And I'm not from the Middle East, technically. I'm from L4."

"You're both from colonies?" Harry frowned. "Really?"

"We'll take you to see them, sometime," Quatre promised. "I'm sure you'll enjoy space. But for now, how about breakfast?"

"Can I have French toast, Trowa?" Harry dashed around the car to grab Trowa's hand and cling, just in case Trowa decided he didn't really want a child to look after and just left him at the restaurant.

"Of course, Harry. But remember, this is a treat. We won't have this every day." Trowa allowed Quatre to lead the way into the restaurant.

"I know! That's okay, I don't mind bread," Harry smiled. "Really I don't."

Trowa felt his anger rising, but forced it down. He wasn't upset with Harry, and it wouldn't do to show his anger in front of the boy. It would only frighten him. There was plenty of time to explain to Harry he wouldn't have to eat old bread at their new house. That they would cook breakfast in the mornings and it might range from oatmeal to a traditional Japanese breakfast, depending on who cooked. Trowa smiled. Harry was certainly in for a surprise when they got settled in to their new home.  
**oOooOo**


	7. Harry's Castle

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Seven  
Harry's Castle

**Disclaimer:** I could only own this if I could be a man, woman, British, and Japanese _all at the same time_. I'm good people, but not that good. Seriously.

**Warnings:** Now with blatant shounen ai! (What do you expect? Quatre's there now.) Harry cuteness, general sap. Oh, and this may cause cavities. Just so you know.

**Author's Note:** And another one bites the dust! A chapter, that is! It's been, what, a week since I updated? Death threats have abounded. You'd think I never updated anything. Hee hee. Anyway, I'm not entirely sure I've gotten around to checking this chapter over, so I'm sorry if I haven't. Life is hetic. I graduated and I'm back home, and now I need to find a crap job so I can go get my Master's degree in a year, and all that crap. But life is good. It hasn't really sunk in that I'm actually graduated, yet. I'm still half think I'll go back to school at the end of summer, so I haven't gotten all weepy because it's still surreal. Give me a week. Then I'll start crying. Heh.

Okay, now that I've caught you up on my life, I guess I'll head on to the next chapter, right? I mean, if I hold out much longer, you'll all kill me.

_To ashlynne:_ Funny thing about your review. . . you asked for an e-mail about when I'd updated just as I sat down to update. . . I was highly amused. In fact, I think I'm amused enough to dedicate this chapter to you. Congrats. This update and chapter is now dedicated to ashlynne!

_To Capricious Purple Clarity  
and  
tati1:_ You are not the only people to fangirl squee at Quatre's entrance. Sad to say, I re-read the chapter and squee-ed myself. I have to admit that I wasn't entirely sure how to react afterward. What does one do when squee-ing at their own writing? I felt somewhat pathetic, honestly. But since it was Quatre, I decided it couldn't be helped. Because, well, it's Quatre. Heh.

_To Utena-Puchiko-nyu_: Actually, I just graduated from the University. But thank you! I appreciate the encouragement!

_To SeithrKairy:_ I'm glad you've started reading other fandoms! I'm also glad it was my fault. (Or, I think I'm glad. If you ever decide you're upset about it, I had nothing to do with it. In fact, you've never heard of me.)

_To 2693:_ To tell the truth, Quatre's just too cute that everyone believes him. Which is why I think he'd be a great liar. Look at the person with those big, innocent, teal eyes and he totally has them (even Vernon-pig-like people) hook, line, and sinker. And no, the Gundam Pilots have never heard of the wizarding world in their lives. In fact, if anyone mentioned it, Hiiro would probably shoot them to rid the world of their stupidity.

_To DarkNinjaBunneh:_ Harry and Duo on sugar at the same time? You shall not think such terrible thoughts! Lol. Seriously though, I think the world would explode.

_To Everyone:_ Sorry about the length of the author's note. Lots of reviews to answer. Not that I'm going to complain, though! They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! Keep 'em coming! Thank you all for reading this and reviewing, I really appreciate it. It's been amazing to see how much people love the story and hear why they like it. Of course, I'm also amazed no one else has written this idea. It's rare to come across ideas that people haven't written, especially with the categories as old as they are. So, thanks for all your amazing support. Exams went well, just so you all know, and all the reviews made me feel very happy. I had a few days I'd go read some just so I didn't feel too stressed out. So thanks for your help!

Now, you can help again by doing me a major favor. . .

Enjoy the chapter seven of Flight of the Bumblebee!  
**oOooOo**

Harry stared in awe at the passing landscape. At first it hadn't seen special, just passing some suburbs like Little Whinging, and then moving on past some fields and older, country homes. Harry was curious about the plants and cows he was seeing along the road, but he was most curious when they reached a large gate. "What's past that?" He asked as they turned up the road that led there.

"That leads to our road," Quatre told Harry with a smile, turning to look at the boy.

"Well, why does it have a gate?" Harry frowned. "To keep people out?"

"Sometimes we have to. Quatre is a very imporrtant person. Some people like to bother him too much."

Harry worried his lip nervously. Was he going to be like the people that bothered Quatre too much? He didn't want that! Quatre reached back to pat his knee. "You aren't one of those people, Harry," He told the child when he felt the boy's worry. "You could never, ever bother me too much. Okay?"

Harry gave a tiny nod, hoping Quatre was right. He would have to remember not to pester Quatre too much, otherwise Quatre might get really mad at him. Harry turned back to the window, glancing at the gates again. Would those big gates keep the Dursleys out? And, more importantly, if Trowa did decide Harry was a bother, would they keep him out, too?

Harry managed to smile at Quatre, vowing to himself that he wouldn't be a bother, and started looking at the houses again. He blinked when he saw the huge buildings, then looked at Trowa. "I thought we were going to the house, not a hotel."

"We are, Harry. Our house is up the street a little further."

"But why are there all these other hotels around it?" Harry pressed his nose to the window. "Who needs this many hotels?"

"They aren't hotels, green eyes," Quatre broke in gently. "These are houses."

"You mean people just live here?" Harry asked, awed. "Do they have lots of people living with them?"

"Not usually. Just a single family. Mom, dad, children. That's it." Quatre hid a smile at the look on Harry's face. "We're a special case, since so many of us live in one house."

"But what do they need all the room for?"

"They don't, green eyes, they just need something to do with their money." Trowa and Quatre exchanged amused looks.

Harry left his nose on the glass, eyes growing wider and wider as the houses continued to grow larger the further into the development they went. "How big do they get?" Trowa shook his head, turning into their driveway. Harry gaped. The driveway itself was practically a little lane itself, almost a quarter mile long.

The house was hidden by trees, but the Winner family had removed the fence long ago. Harry squirmed anxiously. What was his new house going to look like? And then, suddenly, he could see it! It was even bigger than the other houses they'd past, four floors high, with a huge front yard. "The backyard is bigger," Trowa commented suddenly.

Harry gave a little gasp. "I'm going to live here?"

"Yes, green eyes," Trowa offered affectionately. "We're going to live here. Do you like it?"

"It's so _big_," Harry protested. "I can't live here!"

"You certainly can," Quatre frowned slightly, careful to keep it hidden from Harry. "You're most welcome here. This is your home."

Harry just shook his head. There was no way this was all one house! He turned to stare at Quatre, who chuckled as Trowa parked. "Ready to see the inside?"

Harry gave a little cheer, and jumped from the car. Trowa smiled gently, following Harry up the front steps and shoving the door open. Quatre linked his hand in Trowa's, watching as Harry ran into the house. Green eyes grew comically wide as the child took in the entrance hall, awed by the large chandelier and the stone floors. "It really is like a castle!" Harry gasped, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling.

Trowa laughed outright at the boy's wonder. He could identify, because he had felt the same way when he'd first entered one of Quatre's grandiose mansions. Quatre shook his head in amusement. "You want to explore with Trowa and I?"

"Yeah!" Harry grabbed Trowa's hand, dragging him towards the hall. Quatre hid a giggle at Trowa's expression, and followed. "Can I see where that big guy took my flower?"

"Big guy?" Quatre gave him a strange look.

"Rashid," Trowa explained shortly. Understanding dawned in Quatre's eyes.

"Yeah, him," Harry agreed, then continued, "He said he'd take it to a converse-story."

"Conservatory." Quatre's correction was gentle. "And of course we may."

"Can I still take it to my room?" Harry pranced after Quatre, hesitating a moment before letting go of Trowa's hand to grab the blond's. Quatre blinked, surprised, and Harry almost let go before Quatre tightened his grip slightly, letting Harry know the intrusion wasn't unwelcome. The smile on the blond's lips made Harry grin in return, and he gave several anxious tugs to the smaller teen's hand.

"This room right here," Quatre turned inside, and Harry stopped dead in his tracks.

The flummoxed look on his face sent Quatre into a round of snickers, and the boy shifted to pout cutely. "Not very nice," He muttered, making Quatre laugh harder and hug him.

"You are too cute," Quatre managed through his laughter.

Harry scowled. "Girls are cute. I'm a boy. I'm not cute."

"Boys are cute," Quatre argued, tilting his head and putting an angelic look on his face. "I'm cute."

Harry considered that for a moment, then scowled again. "You might be cute, but _I'm_ not."

Quatre held out his free hand in a gesture of surrender. "I give up. You're not cute." His looked gained a devious edge. "You're adorable!"

"Mr. Quatre!" Harry wailed, stomping his foot. "No fair!"

Quatre and Trowa laughed harder, making Harry kick his foot on the ground. "Not funny!"

"If only you could see your face, green eyes," Quatre ruffled his hair. "You'd laugh too. You look like a little puppy!"

"Not a puppy," Harry grumbled, but smiled. He walked carefully further into the room, looking awed. "There's so many plants! But where's mine?"

"Can you find it?" Quatre asked, looking around as well, even though he had no idea which plant was Harry's. The room was large and full of flowers, Quatre's father had converted it from a plain conservatory to more of a green house because his family loved fresh food, especially things like tomatoes and green peppers. There were also several plants that were native to warmer climates in the room.

"Found it!" Harry called from the back, tripping over a large pot in an effort to reach his flower. Both pilots waited for a crash, but when it didn't come glanced up to see someone had caught Harry. "Thank you!" Harry offered cheerfully, unused to being caught when he fell.

"You must be the gardner," Quatre greeted, holding out a hand and introducing all three of them. The man blinked at them and nodded.

"Tom Thumb," He offered, holding out a hand. "My parents thought they'd be cute."

Quatre snickered. The man was an older gentleman, probably just over seventy, his gray hair worn in a long tail down his back. Intelligent brown eyes regarded the boys closely. "Be careful in the garden, young man," The gardener told Harry as he set the child on his feet. "There are many things to trip you here."

"Sorry," Harry blushed, staring at the ground. Now the man would hate him for sure.

"That's just fine, little one. I take it you are the Harry Potter mentioned on this pot?" The man looked him over. "The man that brought it said you would like to care for it once you arrived. Do you know how?"

"Mrs. Mosden taught me!" Harry bubbled, telling the man all about his teacher and how they'd taken care of the plant. "She even told me to _talk_ to it," Harry confided, looking smug.

"Did she now," Tom asked, looking interested. "You seem to know a lot about this plant. We can move it up to your room a little later. I just watered it and we should give the water some time to soak into the dirt before we move it. It could spill."

"Okay. Will you teach me about some of the other plants too?" Harry bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly. "That really big man said you might."

"Perhaps later, little one," The gardener smiled. "But if your thumb matches your eyes, I think you'll be a fine student."

"What's my thumb got to do with my eyes?" Harry mumbled, staring at it. "It's just a thumb."

"Haven't you heard the phrase 'green thumb,' boy?" Tom chuckled. "Now I think your brother wants to finish the tour."

"Oh! I forgot! Thank you Mr. Thumb!" Harry sharply turned, nearly slamming into Trowa.

"Thank you," Quatre told the man as Trowa left. "I hope he doesn't annoy you."

"A little sprite like him? I'll be happy to teach someone about plants. Don't you worry a thing about it. I hope you frequent this room as well, Master Quatre."

"I will, I'm sure. I like some gardening myself, though I am more partial to growing things I can eat." Quatre gave a wink. "A lot of this was for my sisters and mother. My father and I kept the corner with all the food in it."

The man threw his head back and laughed, slapping the blond on the back. "Get you gone, young master!" The man cried. "Before your friends get lost without ye! I can tell I shall like it here."

Quatre grinned, waving as he stepped out, then gave a little wince. The old man had a lot more strength than he'd expected!  
**oOooOo**

"Do you have lots of people working for you, Mr. Quatre?" Harry asked, throwing his arms around the boy in a hug when Quatre rejoined them moments later.

"Not really, no. The seven of us can keep the house clean enough, we have set chores every week for it since we don't care to have a maid snooping about. We keep some of the house closed off, too. If we have a lot of guests we'll have a maid service come in and clean, but not usually. I keep a gardener because most of us just don't know how to care for plants. He also handles the outside during the warmer months." The trio headed further down the hall, towards one of the sitting rooms.

"All by himself?"

"Heavens no, green eyes. He takes care of most of it, but we have a lawn care service to do other things. We'll also hire some other people for the summers, when there's more work outside. Usually students after a little extra money." Quatre chuckled. "But, for the most part, it's all us and the gardener."

"I thought rich people had lots of servants," Harry frowned.

"Not in this house. There's enough of us living here to handle it." Quatre chuckled. "Don't worry. My family owns several larger homes that do have an army of people to keep it cleaned and groomed."

"Really?"

"Certainly. I have twenty-nine sisters, we had to have somewhere to go when we wanted to have a family reunion," Quatre snickered at the boy's expression.

"T--twenty _nine_?" Harry looked ready to faint.

"Yes, green eyes. Twenty nine. We're all test-tube babies. That means my mother didn't have us naturally. My oldest sister is only twenty five years older than I am, and my youngest sister is five years my senior. I'm the youngest and only boy."

Harry pondered that for a moment, then nodded. "No wonder you're gay."

Quatre choked and Trowa burst into laughter. "What?"

"Well, with all those sisters and only your dad, I mean. . . you're practically a girl already!" Harry nodded.

For the first time since Trowa had met Quatre, the blond had nothing to say. Quatre could always be counted on to have a polite remark, or at least a politcally correct answer for anything. Now he was mouthing like a landed fish, his polite demeanor gone. "I am not a girl!" Quatre almost shrieked, finally managing to find something.

Trowa laughed harder.

"You're _so_ on the couch for a month," Quatre grumbled, but Trowa knew he wasn't serious.

Harry grinned and Quatre crossed his arms, still looking affronted. "You're so in for it," Quatre told the boy, making him step back a bit and grow quiet, scared.

Quatre pounced. "Call me a girl, will you!" He knocked Harry to the couch and drew back an arm. "Take this!"

Harry screamed with laughter as Quatre's hands found his ribs, dancing over his sides and up his back. Trowa watched, not daring to step in. Harry might have been screaming bloody murder, but at least it was mostly laughter. Quatre's tickle attack had quickly allayed his fears of being beaten for the remark, and after the shock of being tickled wore off, Harry was trying to attack back. Fortunately for Harry, Quatre was a great deal more ticklish than Trowa and the two ended up sending each other into fits of laughter. Trowa was forced to pull them apart before they hyperventilated. "Let's keep exploring," Trowa ordered, keeping them away from each other. Harry continued to giggle.

Quatre agreed, wrapping an arm around Trowa's waist. "I'm not a girl," He muttered to his lover.

Trowa's hand ghosted down Quatre's backside. "I know that very, very well, little one," Trowa murmured huskily. "_Trust me_."

Quatre licked suddenly dry lips and nodded, moving just a little closer to Trowa as they continued to follow Harry through the house. Harry was eager to touch things and look at things, and just be a nine-year-old boy. "Here, Harry, come look at this," Quatre shifted next to the bookshelf in the large library--it had the enitre west wing to itself--and tugged a hidden lever to open a secret passage. "These passages go to almost every room in the house."

"What are they here for?"

"This house was built a long time ago, when servants weren't supposed to be seen in the hall ways. These passages were how the servants got around. I've had them cleaned by some very trusted people, and you may feel free to explore them." Quatre smiled. "This is the only one I will show you, you'll have to find the others."

"Cool!" Harry looked ready to jump into the passageway when Trowa caught him.

"No exploring them now, green eyes. Lunch first."

"Aw, Trowa," Harry whined. It was the first time Trowa had heard him whine like a boy his age ought. Trowa, however, was immune.

"Lunch. Then we'll come back." Trowa told the child sternly, carrying him from the room. "You too, Quatre."

"Not that way," Quatre waved him into the passage. "We can get to the kitchen from here. Harry can explore to the kitchen, and we'll get lunch."

"Please, please, please, Trowa?" Harry begged, squirming in Trowa's strong arms.

"You have to hold my hand so I know you won't run off," Trowa ordered, letting Quatre lead them into the narrow passageways. They were dim and a little creepy, but meticulously cleaned. Quatre pulled out his keys and found the miniature flashlight he kept on them to light the way. Trowa dug one out as well, forced to let Harry go, but keeping him in the middle. He wouldn't be able to run away since either he or Quatre would have to move to let the child past.

"Kitchen's here," Quatre announced moments later, shoving a panel open and leading them into the kitchen. They came out in a small room next to the pantry. "This room would have been used by the butler. See all the bells? Most of the rooms have bell-pulls. The different bells indicated which room a servant was needed in. My father kept them up because it worked well for a call system, and the maids enjoyed the bells a lot more than an intercom."

"I think it'd get annoying," Harry mused, looking at the bells. "Like getting yelled at, only you're getting _rung_ at instead."

"That's why my father thought, but we had to use them while we installed the system, and the maids said they liked the bells better. They used them for each other, too. It was just a lot more effecient than the intercom. I was pretty young while all that was going on, so I don't remember it well, but we've kept them anyway. I have a feeling Duo will enjoy playing with them."

Trowa groaned. He'd forgotten how much Duo liked to play with the things he considered frivolous in the houses. Hopefully he'd leave the bells well enough alone, or they'd be taking them out. Trowa would do it himself if he had to.

With C-4.

Harry played with the bells as Trowa and Quatre fixed lunch, enjoying the different tones they made. Quatre had given him a small meat hammer to hit them with, and the boy tried to make up some music to go with the bells. Quatre rolled his eyes and partially closed the door to muffle the noise. Trowa nearly groaned. He had a sinking feeling it wasn't just Duo that would spend his time playing with the pretty bells.

"Time for lunch," Quatre called Harry to the kitchen proper and sat the three plates down on the bar in the kitchen. Harry jumped onto the stool, twisting the seat back and forth as he swung his legs. Quatre snickered slightly, tucking his own feet on the rungs of the tall stool. "You like the chairs, green eyes?"

"Yeah!" Harry announced, munching at the ham sandwich Quatre had given him. "This is good."

"Did I make you too much?" Quatre looked worried. Trowa had said Harry would inhale whatever he put in front of the boy, but Quatre just didn't believe him.

"Nope!" Harry ate faster, as though he was worried Quatre would take it away.

"Okay. But you don't have to eat it all if I did. And if you're still hungry, you can have more." Quatre started in on his own sandwich, far more delicately than Trowa or Harry attempted. Harry glanced at the blond, green eyes flicking from Quatre to Trowa, one brow raised. Trowa caught the look and laughed outright. _He even_ eats_ like a girl,_ the implied message imformed Trowa as the child returned to his meal. Quatre, who missed the by-play, gave Trowa a strange look.

Trowa just smiled and shook his head, making Quatre laugh a little bit. "Do you want to see your room after this, Harry?" Quatre glanced at the child.

Harry's green eyes widened. "I don't have to sleep in a closet?"

"No, green eyes. You'll have your very own room, remember? I told you all about it at the Dursleys? And when we bought the furniture for it?" Trowa reminded him.

Harry considered that for a moment, then nodded. "I thought. . . you were just saying that, though," Harry mumbled, ears pinked. He hadn't really expected Trowa to take him away from the Dursleys, or for the teen to want to keep him around. When Quatre said they didn't have a maid, Harry assumed that would be his job. It was all he was good for, after all.

Trowa sighed, sadly, and reached over to pat Harry on the head. "Never, green eyes. I won't lie to you unless I absolutely have to."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Will anyone else here?"

"No."

"Promise that, too?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." Trowa soothed the child, sitting back to finish his lunch. Harry considered that for a moment, then smiled in relief.

"And I really don't have to sleep in a closet?"

Quatre went white from rage at that, hands nearly crushing the helpless sandwich he was holding. Trowa glanced at his lover, worried, but Quatre managed a tight smile. "I don't care what the walrus of an uncle told you, Harry, but you will not be sleeping in a closet here." Quatre breathed, reigning in his anger.

Harry stared at him for a moment, then smiled and threw his arms around Quatre. "Thank you so much, Mr. Quatre!"

"Just Quatre, Harry." The blond told Harry firmly. "You're part of our family. There is no need to call me mister."

Harry finished his sandwich hurridly, then waited impatiently for Quatre and Trowa to get done. He had a real family now, not like the Dursleys. It was going to be amazing! And Trowa was his big brother, and Quatre was. . . Harry wrinkled his nose. He wasn't entirely sure what Quatre was. "Mr. Qua--er--Quatre, what are you?"

"Huh?"

"Well. . . you're Trowa's boyfriend, right? And he's my kind of brother, so what are you?"

"I suppose that would make me a kind-of brother-in-law." Quatre replied, finishing off the last of his sandwich and letting Trow urge him to his feet. Harry bounced cheerfully to the staircase, past the second floor, and up to the third where they would all be sleeping.

"Really? So. . . what about the others? What are they?"

"I think you can just call us all brother and it would be fine, Harry," Trowa smiled. "Even if Quatre is your brother-in-law."

Harry pondered that, but nodded, and glanced around. "We sleep all the way up here?"

"The first and second floors are all those sitting rooms and things, remember?" Trowa asked, watching Harry consider it. The ground floor had contained the large kitchen, dining room, family room, conservatory, and library, a room that held pool, foozeball, and airhocky, a few small sitting rooms, and the entry hall.

The second story had been a large music room, a few more small sitting rooms, the second stories of the library, conservatory, and family room, an art studio, and a smaller off shoot of the library that contained movies and music. There was a much smaller collection of favorites by the TV in the downstairs family room, but the rest were housed there. The second floor also had a large entertainment room, with the lastest video game and movie technology, surround sound, with the chairs and couches faces specifically for gaming of movie watching.

The basement was where they'd spent the least about of time, since it was taken up by a large dojo and training room. One wall had fascenated Harry because it was covered in mirrors, and Quatre had explained that the mirrors--and bar on the same wall--had originally been installed for three of his sisters who practiced ballet. One of the names Harry had recognized from something he'd watched in school. She'd been the lead dancer and, according to Harry, very pretty and graceful. "You use all this stuff?" Harry had asked, looking at the weight machines and punching bags and equipment that was scattered around. The pilots had nodded, and warned Harry not to touch it without supervision, because he could get hurt.

Harry glanced at the third floor again, then turned to Trowa. "The bed rooms could have been on the fourth floor," He pointed out. "So we didn't _have_ to sleep on the third floor.

"They could have been," Quatre agreed. "But we decided to put our offices on the fourth floor." It was harder for people to get up there to steal things.

"The bedrooms each have an attached bathroom," Trowa added. "Your room and bathroom are yours to keep clean."

"I don't have to clean them all?"

"We take turns cleaning everything but our rooms and bathrooms. Those are just our responsiblity. It works best that way." Trowa shrugged. Harry nodded and poked his head into every room they passed. The main staircase rose to the middle of the hall, but a second set of stairs were at the other end, behind the secrets passageways. Neither Quatre nor Trowa had pointed that set out, however. Harry would learn they were there soon enough. Starting at the end without the stairs, Harry contented himself with poking his head into every room they passed. The guest rooms were all fairly plain, with softly colored walls and matching bedspreads with rich wood furniture and neutral cream carpet. The only real addition to the furniture was a small stereo in each room that matched the room's decor. "Purple, blue, green, pink, peach, and yellow," Harry listed off, making a face. "So boring!"

"Our rooms are a little more personalized," Quatre reminded him. "We just don't do much to the guest rooms. Since we don't sleep in them much, there isn't much point to making them something _we_ like. We don't sleep there."

"True, but still boring," Harry following them down the hall. "Is my room next?"

"I thought we'd do your room last," Trowa told him. "So you can see where everyone else sleeps before we turn you loose to have some fun on your own."

Harry considered that, then nodded in agreement. Maybe he could go talk to Mr. Thumb again! "If you get lost, you can either keep wandering, or call us over the intercom. You could use the bell pull, because each floor has a station with a set of bells in it the same as the one in the kitchen, but the intercom might be a little easier." Quatre added.

Harry peered into the first room they opened. All the bedrooms were very large and airy, with a small balcony attached to the room, and a door leading to the bathroom in one corner. This room was closest to the servant's stairs, though Harry was unaware of the stairs yet, and was just as big as the others. It was a beautiful room, done in various shades of blue and purple, mostly jewel tones, with some charcoal gray and soft cream for contrast. A shimmer to the teal walls made it look like they were underwater. The furnature was mahogany, and darkly laqured, carved to looked like living plants had formed the bed and nightables. A heavy dresser sat along one wall, with a mirror attached. A mahogany chest lined with cedar sat at the foot of the bed. "Wow!"

"Duo and Hiiro both like blue, and Duo thought it would be fun to make it look like the ocean." Quatre explined. Trowa bit back a remark about Duo's and Hiiro's first meeting at an ocean, making Quatre give him a Look. Harry didn't need to know about that unless Hiiro or (more likely) Duo told him.

"It's so cool, though!" Harry pretended to swim around the room. "Like you could be a merman and stuff! Are all the rooms like this?"

"Not all. You want to see the next one?"

Harry nodded anxiously, following them to the next room over. "This is Wu Fei and Zechs' room." Quatre pushed the door open, leaving Harry gaping again. It was nothing like Duo's and Hiiro's room, but no less extravagant. The heavy dresser, bed, and night stands were all rich oak, and a beautiful miniature waterfall ran merrily on the dresser, giving a soothing affect to the room. The walls were painted a soft jade green, and the comfortor was mostly dark green with rich red and gold dragons swimming on it. A large gold dragon hung over the bed, and a small shrine sat in one corner, a dragon statue perched on top. Trowa's eyes widened. "Wu Fei is going to _kill_ you."

"Hm?" Quatre glanced at the corner and smiled. "Oh, that. Yes, I know, but I couldn't help buy it. I know he doesn't have much left of his clan, just what little made it through the war, and that old _dan dao_ of his, so when I found it. . . I had to get it for him. He has so very little to remember his ancestors by."

Trowa shook his head, but didn't say more about the statue. Harry glanced up, and nearly laughed. "Stars? He has glow in the dark stars?"

"We all do. It's. . . comforting." Quatre smiled. "We put some in your room, too." To stare at as he fell asleep. In the dark and quite of the night time, especially since they were away of all the city lights, it would be nice to have the stars on the ceiling. As a reminder of home. Harry shrugged, looking around a little further. Like Duo's and Hiiro's room there were pictures on the walls of their "family," and a few paintings decorated the walls. Harry examined it a little longer, then let Trowa drag him to his and Quatre's room. Their room was across from Duo's and Hiiro's, and Harry walked into it with far more confidence than he had the others. Probably because he knew Trowa far better than the others.

Trowa and Quatre had chosen to paint their room a beautiful sunrise green, a rich shade that looks like the world as its touched by the sun's first rays, though not nearly as vibrant. A soft shimmer only added to the illusion, and Harry touched the walls gently. "Pretty."

"Thank you." Quatre looked proud. "We chose it ourselvs."

Harry nodded, looking over the oak furnature. It was still simply a bed, two nightstands, a dresser, and a chest lined with cedar, but Harry thought it was beautiful. The golden wood was perfect for the soft, sunrise green walls. Like the other rooms, a collection of photos and a few paintings decorated the walls, and Harry thought it was pretty. Leaning over the bed, and pointed at a what appeared to be a leather ring with strings stretched all over the inside to make a strange looking star. Beads and feathers decorated the strange ornament "What's that?"

"It's a dream catcher," Trowa explained. "Native Americans make them to catch bad dreams."

"Where did it come from?" Harry leaned closer to look at it. The dreamcatcher was almost a foot in diameter, the dyed strings deep green, like the decorative beads. Large, brown feathers fluttered as the boy breathed.

Quatre and Trowa traded looks. "We'll tell you another time, how's that?"

Harry shrugged and agreed, letting them lead him to his own room. He paused at the door. "Are you sure this is all for me? I. . . I mean. . . I could sleep in a closet if you wanted. . . or. . . or something. . . "

"This is for you, Harry," Trowa knelt by the child, sensing his uncertainty. "Trust me when I tell you this isn't going to disappear, all right? We want to give you your own room. We want to be your family. There is no way you're going to sleep in a closet. The Dursleys might have been cruel to you, but we want you here. We want you to be happy and to have your own room, all right?"

"But. . . what if I get scared?"

"Any time you are scared, just come knock on our door and I'll help." Trowa urged. He would have told Harry to come in, but he knew better than to think there wouldn't be awkward moments if he did that. "And I'm sure the others will say the same. Do you understand? This room is for you. We aren't going to take it away, no matter what."

Harry nodded hesitently, then allowed Trowa to push open the door. Harry blinked. It wasn't what he'd been expecting at all. The furnature he'd chosen was there, the bookshelf with a few books already on it. A radio sat on one shelf of the bookshelf, with a small music collection next to it. "If you don't like the music, just get whatever you like in the room by the library," Quatre told him, watching him run his fingers over it.

"Do you have one too?"

"We each do, but the others are bringing theirs when they come," Quatre explained. "We have a few things we won't move until the last minute. Trowa and I do already have ours, though. Didn't you see it on the dresser?"

Harry made a face, thinking, but shook his head. The sleek stereo was small and looked expensive.

"Do you like the decorations?" Quatre finally asked, starting to look nervous. Harry nodded eagerly. He had told Trowa just how he'd paint his room if he could, and it was amazing. They were blue with clouds on them, and a motorcycle hung on the wall like it was flying. "That's just like the one in my dream!" Harry shouted, looking at the cycle. Quatre didn't tell him it had to be custom made. They'd examined the cycle from the pictures Harry had drawn--he'd done very well, all things considered--and managed to get it matched to a real motorcycle.

Stars decorated Harry's ceiling as well, and his toys were in the chest at the foot of his bed. The ratty old blanket he'd begged Trowa for was folded neatly at the foot of the bed while Padfoot sat on the pillows. Harry stared at the bedspread. "It's. . . so familier. . ." He looked at the copper red of the bedspread, trying to think where he'd seen it before. "How did you find it?"

"I was looking for colors I thought you might like, and this one was on a poster I saw. Of a woman. That poster in the ice cream parlor." Trowa frowned. "I showed it to you a couple of times of times, and you always liked it."

"I think. . . it had something to do with my mother," Harry looked at the spread. It was the color of new penny copper, and something niggled at the back of Harry's mind. "Like. . . her hair. This was her hair!"

"Good memory," Quatre complimented, surprised. "So you like it?"

Harry nodded, running his fingers over it in awe. "I don't have any pictures, so. . ."

"We managed to resolve that, too," Quatre grinned. "I couldn't find anything of your father, but I found a picture of your mother. One of her primary school photos." He pointed to a picture on the wall. "Her hair must have changed color a little, but it's almost right, isn't it."

The girl staring at Harry had soft looking red hair and bright green eyes. She was smiling brightly, her hair pulled back from her face with a pretty green ribbon. "That's. . . my mum?"

"Lily Evans," Trowa confirmed. "She's very pretty."

"How old is she? In the picture, I mean?"

"I believe she is ten or eleven."

Hesitently, Harry reached out to touch her face. Trowa nearly snarled. Harry had obviously never seen a picture of his mother before. "She's so beautiful." Harry breathed, blinking back tears. "Thank you so much!" He threw his arms around Quatre, sniffing.

"You're very welcome. Did you look around the rest of your room?" Quatre smiled gently. Harry frowned and shook his head, moving to keep looking. pictures of all the pilots hung on the walls, and a few posters of things Harry had said he liked. Mostly cartoons. He was sidetracked for a moment when he realized he'd been given his own laptop, and Quatre almost smiled. He had a feeling Hiiro had something to do with that. Harry's eyes landed on a dream catcher above his own bed after the excitment of his own computer wore off. "I have one too? Where did you get it?"

"Duo made that one," Quatre chuckled. When Duo had seen the dreamcatched the woman had given him, he'd nearly broken into tears. After the mission, Duo had gone back, begging her to teach him the craft. He liked to make them to relax, and they had all been shocked to discover a small market for them. He didn't really do it as a business, but a few orders here and there cropped up in the work place, or people told their friends about him, giving him a small side income for special treats. Harry looked over the coppery red, black, and green strings. "We knew your mother's hair was red, obviously, and we figured your father probably had black hair, and then your green eyes. So something for all of you."

Harry sniffled again, rubbing at his eyes. Trowa folded the child in a gentle hug. "What's wrong, green eyes?"

"Nobody ever did anything like that before," He sobbed out. "And, and. . . I'm not good enough!"

"We love you, Harry. Nothing else matters." Trowa murmured, rocking him gently. "No matter what, just remember we love you. Me, and Quatre, and Hiiro and Duo, and Zechs and Wu Fei, and everyone we call family. We all love you. We will always love you."

Harry continued to sob, and Quatre joined them, rubbing his back gently. The excitement of everything had caught up with the child, and he cried himself out, falling fast asleep in Trowa's arms. The two tucked him in and gave a small sigh. "He's really fucked up, isn't he," Quatre murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the boy's forehead.

Trowa nodded looking sad. "The Dursleys were bad, little one. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. Not even Treize." A hand caressed Harry's cheek.

Quatre sighed, tip-toeing out of the room and closing the door softly. "We're just going to have to teach him that's not the way everything is."

Trowa glanced at his lover, then nodded. If only he had known about Harry before! Those thrice damned Dursleys. If they made even a single misstep while they were in this house. . . they'd seriously regret it.  
**oOooOo**


	8. A New Life

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Eight  
A New Life

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Gundam Wing. Sadly, because if I did, I would be rich. But I do take cash, check, and credit card! Lol.

**Warnings:** Shounen Ai (1x2, 3x4, 5x6) and cuteness.

**Author's Note:** It's a cute chapter, and I hope you all like reading it. I just love writing this story, because Harry is about the cutest thing _ever_. Seriously. I just want to hug him and cuddle him. And I probably would if I didn't think Trowa would kill me. This chapter is not edited, I'm sorry, so please forgive my typos. I will go back and edit it, I promise. But I wanted to get it up before I had to send in my computer to get it fixed. If I didn't, you all would have to wait, like, two or three more weeks, at the very least, for another chapter. So enjoy this one. I'll put a note in my bio when I send off my computer so you'll know, and I'll get to work when I get it back, I promise!

_To primaaryet:_ Hogwarts will not be this story, but in a sequal, if I chose to write one. There is a very small amount of magic involved with this, no worse than what was in the original books, but I hope you enjoy the story anyway.

_To Hatori Soma:_ Trowa always struck me as an action kind of guy. One of those people who doesn't bother getting depressed when he can do something about the problem, you know? So I'm writing this story with that idea in mind.

_To ashlynne:_ You're welcome for last chapter. I'm glad you liked it (seeing how it was dedicated to you. . .)!

_To Beth Weasley:_ I've seen the fics where Harry's related to Hiiro (and read them all, too) but I've never found much resemblence between Harry and Hiiro except that they have messy hair. When I sat down to write this, I went, "Hiiro and Harry just doesn't work. But Trowa and Harry do!" There was a lot of ideas that did and didn't work. Trowa was almost Harry's brother, but I couldn't fit the peices together. Writing this fic and meshing the two universes has been a major learning experience, I will admit that. As rewarding as the story is, it is often a pain in my ass to write. Good thing I like a challenge, ne? Lol.

_To megami580:_ On the bright side, you won't see Dumbledore in this story. I have something else in mind.

_To everyone:_ Please review and do me one more favor. . .  
Enjoy chapter eight!  
**oOooOo**

They'd barely woken Harry for dinner that night, and the exhausted child fell straight back to sleep afterward, curled up on the couch with his head pillowed on Trowa's lap. He didn't seem to want to leave the elder's side, as though he was afraid everything would disappear if he lost sight of Trowa for a single moment. Trowa gave a slight frown as he tucked the child into bed, giving him a kiss and then slipping silently from the room.

"He's bound to be a little clingy," Quatre reminded him, wrapping his arms around Trowa. "He's so used to be discarded and unwanted that he's learned not to expect anything else. You're turning his reality on its head."

"Should we get him to see a councilor?" Trowa mused, resting his chin on Quatre's soft hair.

"Perhaps. I think we should let him settle in a little bit first. If he still seems unable to adjust, then we should look more into it. For now, give him some time." Quatre leaned back, tilting his face upwards to catch Trowa's lips in a kiss.

"Do you think he can adjust?"

"I think we'll all have to. Duo said it would be hard, at first. He'd be really good, so we'd want him, then he'd start acting out. Testing his boundries to see if we _would_ keep him. He said Harry would likely make us want to rip our hair out. If we don't send him back, Duo thought he'd calm down. That's the pattern he claimed he went through when he was at the orphanage and when he met the Sweepers."

"I don't remember doing anything like that," Trowa frowned. But he had also never been under any illusions that he would be kept if he acted out of turn.

"I have no experience," Quatre shrugged. "I was never placed in that position. Nor was Wu Fei. Hiiro never recalled that either, but he also said the only time he did act out he was beaten badly by Dr. J. He can't recall ever acting out when he was with Odin."

"Did Zechs say anything about it?"

"His childhood was considerably better than ours."

Trowa sighed and cuddled Quatre a little closer. "I want him to consider this his home. I want us to be his family."

"We _are_ his family," Quatre murmured feircly. "No matter how long it takes him to realize that."

Trowa smiled, tilting Quatre's face up and pressing a kiss to his lips. "I'm glad you want that, too."

"I want other things as well, lover," Quatre purred against Trowa's lips, seeking another kiss and deepening it. Trowa purred in agreement, lifting Quatre and heading towards their bedroom. He had been seperated from his blond lover _far_ too long.  
**oOooOo**

Harry woke later Saturday, and spent several long moments in a panic when he realized the sun was up and he was late to fix breakfast for the Dursleys. Then, as he calmed, he remembered that he was no longer at the Dursleys. Fratically digging through his bedcloths for Padfoot, Harry gave a small sigh of relief. The room wasn't the one he shared with Trowa at the Dursleys, and he could remember being told it was his. Recognizing the furniture he'd chosen just a week prior, Harry let himself relax. He was really away from the Dursleys. For the first time ever, he didn't have to live at their beck and call. He was allowed to be a nine-year-old boy.

Padding quietly from the room, he was surprised to find Trowa's and Quatre's door open. He panicked again. What if he was supposed to make them breakfast? What if he was late and they were hungry? Would they hit him for being late? Maybe they'd take him back! Harry's eyes blurred with tears as he clutched Padfoot closer. Maybe they'd keep him, just take away his room and his toys. He really didn't want to loose his blanket, or Padfoot, or the picture of his mother!

The child rushed to the stairs, nearly falling down them as he rushed to the kitchen. Maybe he was only a little late and they wouldn't be mad! Maybe. . . maybe if he said he was sorry and was extra careful with breakfast he'd be allowed to stay and keep his room!

"Harry, what's wrong?" Quatre's concerned voice cut through his panic. "Why are you crying, green eyes?"

Hands, strange but with familier callouses, reached out to grab him, strong, slender arms holding him close. "Talk to me, green eyes," Quatre's voice was still gentle. "Why are you crying?"

"I didn't mean to be late!" Harry wailed. "I'm sorry! I won't do it again! Please don't make me go back!"

"We aren't sending you anywhere, sweetie," Quatre soothed, hugging Harry tightly. "We aren't sending you to the Dursleys and you didn't oversleep."

"I didn't mean to be late!" Harry wailed again.

"Harry, look at me." Quatre's voice was level and serious, and whenever Harry had heard anyone talk like that before it meant he had to listen or Uncle Vernon would hit him or lock him in the cupboard. Harry forced back his tears to regard Quatre with frightened, watery eyes. "You are not late. We are not sending you back to the Dursleys. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, accidently letting out another sniffle. Reflexively he flinched, only to feel Quatre hug him again. "It's okay to cry, Harry," Quatre murmured, petting his hair. Harry sniffled again, a few more tears escaping before he got himself under control. It felt so nice to have someone hug him when he was crying, and to hild him close and tell him it was all right. Still shuddering a big from his crying jag, Harry tentively wrapped his arms around Quatre and rested his head on the blond's shoulder, letting Quatre continue to cuddle him.

"I'm not late?" Harry finally asked, his voice tiny and shaky from tears.

"No, green eyes. Not at all. Come on, Trowa should have breakfast finished. Are you hungry?"

Harry managed a nod and let Quatre carry him back into the kitchen and set him on one of the barstools. He blinked suddenly. "Padfoot!" He wailed, moving to get down. Quatre stopped him, handing him the stuffed dog.

"You dropped it in the hallway. You're sure you're going to be all right, green eyes?" Harry could tell Quatre was worried and he felt a little thrill of happiness rush through him. He'd never had anyone _worry_ about him before!

"Thank you," Harry murmured, staring at the counter.

"It's fine." Quatre kissed the crown of his head and sat down next to him. Harry finally looked up, and smiled upon seeing his older cousin standing at the stove.

"What's for breakfast?" Harry knew he probably wouldn't get any after his trantrum, but Trowa just smiled at him.

"I was in the mood for Crepes," Trowa admitted. "They're very good with jam and fresh fruit. Are you hungry?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I wasn't awake to cook for you." Harry kicked the counter absently. "I didn't mean to sleep so late."

"Yesterday probably wore you out," Trowa came over to ruffle his unruly black hair. "Moving wears out a lot of people. Don't worry so much. Besides, we don't expect you to cook breakfast in the mornings."

Harry's brow furrowed. "But Aunt Petunia always said that if I didn't cook I wasn't allowed to eat."

"Things are very different here, Harry," Trowa dropped his hand to Harry's cheek to caress the child's face before he turned back to the stove to check breakfast. "We're going to sit down and explain the rules after breakfast, okay?"

"I get breakfast?"

"Yes, green eyes, you get breakfast. In fact, it's done. Quatre, will you get some milk for us, please?"

The blond quickly grabbed plates and cups before moving to the fridge. "Watch this," Quatre winked at Harry after he'd poured the milk and set out the fruit and jam. Harry watched as Trowa deftly flipped the crepe in the pan across the kitchen and onto one of the large plates Quatre had set on the counter. Several more in the microwave appeared and followed the first, landing in a neat stack. Harry's eyes grew wide. He'd never seen anyone do that before!

"Isn't that cool?" Quatre grinned, looking pleased about Trowa flinging crepes across the kitchen. The taller boy sat next to Harry, sandwiching the child between the two older boys, and picked one off the stack to eat.

"You better dig in while they're hot," Trowa ordered, putting fresh strawberries on his crepe. "I got the berries from Tom this morning. He said they're going to rot if we don't eating them."

Quatre licked his lips. "Is there enough for a pie?"

"You and your pies," Trowa playfully moaned, rolling his eyes.

"I like pie," Quatre pouted as Harry giggled over his breakfast.

"There are plenty enough for pie," Trowa winked to Harry. "Quatre makes the best pie ever."

"I've never had it," Harry admitted. "I'm not allowed to have pudding. Aunt Petunia says I'll get spoilt."

"I don't think anything could spoil you, green eyes," Quatre offered affectionately. Harry smiled again and returned to his breakfast. Quatre watched him for a moment longer, determined to make a pie for the boy. It was hardly fair that Harry had never been allowed sweets of any kind.

It didn't take long for the three hungry boys to finish breakfast, and then Trowa and Quatre took Harry into the den to go over the rules. Harry curled up next to Trowa, small hands fisting in the teen's shirt, almost as if he was afraid Trowa would disappear. Trowa wrapped an arm around the boy while Quatre fetched a few large posters. Harry tilted his head.

"We're going to go over rules first," Trowa told the blond, who nodded. He then added, for Harry's benefit, "We've written them down so they're easier to remember, okay?"

Harry nodded, staring at the poster. Trowa ignored it and continued, "Your bedtime here is nine o'clock, every night. If you want, we'll even tuck you in and read a story together, okay?"

"If I want?"

"You do have some choices, green eyes," Trowa grinned. "I'm not going to dictate everything you do. But everyone needs some rules."

"That's why we have laws," Harry nodded. "Mrs. Mosden told me."

"Good. You're really smart." Trowa pointed to the poster again. "You need to be up every morning between six and six-thirty, so you can get ready for school and we can eat breakfast together. One of us will take you to school, but it isn't always going to be the same person. Sometimes it'll be me, sometimes it'll be one of the others. On weekends, though, you may stay up late with permission, and you may get up whenever you want."

Harry didn't seem to mind the concept of a bed time or that Trowa wouldn't take him to school every morning, and even seemed excited that he'd get to show off all of his new "brothers." He bounced foward in his seat, pointint to the next rule. "Can I read it?"

"Of course."

"It says I have to ask per. . . per-mis-son. . . to go somewhere."

"Permission." Quatre absently corrected. "Very good."

"That means I have to ask you before I go places, right? Like to school? Or to the bathroom?"

"No, not to school. We know you have school everyday. And you don't have to ask us to go to the bathroom, either. You have to ask permission to go to a friend's house after school, or if you want to go outside. If we're out in a public place and you need to go to the restroom, then you must tell us. If we are home, you need never ask."

"And then the next one says I have to ask permission to watch TV or play video games or games on my computer."

"That's right. We want you to get your homework done before you watch TV. If there is a show you don't want to miss, we'll be happy to tape it for you to watch later."

"Okay. I never got to watch TV much anyway." Harry shrugged, looking unconcerned.

"Everyone has a show or two they really like." Trowa explained. "We tend to tape them so we can watch them whenever we want."

"Oh. Okay. This also says I have to re-respect other people's things. I have to ask to use things that aren't mine, and I have to knock before entering someone else's room. Do people have to knock before they come into mine?"

"Yup. You always have to ask permission. I'm allowed to go in your room if I think something's wrong, and there might be times we tell you not to knock, but if you want to go into someone else's room, you should knock first."

There were a few other rules that Trowa went over on the poster, and Harry listened intently, not wanting to upset his new family by forgetting. "We also have to go over punishment," Trowa told him after they were done with the rules.

Harry shivered and flinched, but Trowa put an arm around him, rubbing his back soothingly. "We are never going to beat you, Harry." Trowa forced Harry's green eyes to meet his. "No matter what happens, you will never have to fear us hurting you when we punish you. If you just forgot, we'll remind you. Everyone forgets things, sometimes. Sometimes you'll do things accidently. It's okay. Accidents happen. We might be worried out of our minds, but it was still an accident. We might punish you so you don't do it again, but we understand about accidents, okay?"

Harry nodded, fidgiting. "But. . . but what will you do to punish me?"

"We might put you in time-out. Do you know what that is?"

Harry shook his head.

"We'll move you away from the group. Maybe sit you in a chair or in a corner and make you stand there, facing the wall, quietly for a few minutes. Right now it will be nine minutes because you are nine years old. When you turn ten, it will be ten minutes. Do you understand?"

"So. . . you won't hit me? Just make me stand in a corner?" Relief was the most prominent expression on Harry's face.

"Yes, green eyes. Good memory. We might ground you sometimes, too. You know what that means?"

"I'll be locked in my room and not allowed to eat until you let me you." Harry nodded. "Uncle Vernon did that, sometimes."

"No, Harry. That's not what I mean." Trowa forced back his temper. Those Dursleys were in for it! "We are never going to make you skip meals and we will never lock you in your room for punishment. _Never_. Understand? When I say we might ground you, it means we'll take away something like the TV or video games for a set amount of time, like a week, or we won't let you go to a friend's house."

"And you won't ever hit me?" Harry couldn't seem to believe it.

"Not if I have a choice." Trowa hoped it would never come to it, but sometimes he had to use violence to save people. If it meant the difference between Harry being alive and being dead, he knew his choice, but he would never hit the child for punishment. He had no problem with corperal punishment, but Harry had already been abused. He wouldn't understand what the difference between abuse and punishment was. It was better not to hit him, if it could be helped.

"You promise?"

"Cross my heart."

Trowa had never seen anything as rewarding as Harry's smile at that statement.

Quatre's soft voice made them both jerk, and the blond gave a tiny chuckle. "This other posterboard is our job assignments," Quatre explained, pulling it out. One the short side were a list of five weeks, and on the long side was a list of various jobs. Each square had a piece of velcro in it and there was another small pile of squares at Quatre's side. "Every month we'll decide who's doing certian jobs," Quatre explained. "This will be in the butler's room off the pantry, so we can all find it. You have to complete that chore that week. So one week you might vacuum the fourth floor, and the week after might be your week to clean the bathrooms that aren't attached to people's rooms."

"That's easy," Harry exclaimed. "So I don't have to clean the whole house all the time?"

"Nope."

"What about cooking?"

"That's a different sheet. But Trowa and I don't want you unsupervised in the kitchen for awhile, so you'll just help us a couple of nights a week, okay?"

Harry nodded. "Do I get to pick the nights?"

"Sure, why not? We pick our nights, too." Quatre grinned. "But that's after everyone else gets here, of course." The sheet for meals was also set for a five-week month, and the same system with velcro was used on those squares as well.

"How will I put my name on there?"

"We have your name on seperate cards. That's why there's two pieces of velcro, see?"

"Oh," Harry nodded. "That's neat. Will that be in the butler's room, too?"

"Yes." Quatre gathered everything. "We won't get that all set up until the other's arrive, though, okay?"

"That's still cool!" Harry looked excited at the prospect of actually meeting everyone, which was a relief to Quatre and Trowa. They'd been worried he'd think more people meant he was less important. At the moment, however, it seemed that Harry just wanted to see all the people his "brother" kept talking about.

"Do you want to see the back yard now?" Trowa asked, and Harry nodded, delighted. He hadn't had a chance to see it the night before. Rushing to the front room to get his shoes and coat, he dressed quickly, then danced impatiently on his toes until Trowa and Quatre appeared, dressed for the cold weather. Stepping outside was a treat for Harry, who stared at the backyard in awe. A large pool was on one side, and there was a hot tub just out of sight of the doors.

"Don't get in there unless you ask," Trowa ordered. "And one of us must be with you."

"Okay." Harry had never really learned to swim, and he wasn't sure he liked the water. But he knew hot tubs were supposed to be nice and warm, like baths, and it made him excited because he'd never seen one before. Dudley would be very jealous to see everything Harry had, now.

Trowa and Quatre watched the boy run around the yard, examining the playground in the back and tugging thoughtfully at an old swing tied to a tree. There was also a few hammocks tied to the large trees in the back, set in the shade where it would be perfect to curl up and read come spring. Harry couldn't wait to look at everything. There were several gardens, and Harry seemed fascenated with them, even though everything was dead from the cold.

"Can I play on the play ground?" Harry pleaded. Trowa passed him his hat and gloves--which he had forgotten in his excitment--and nodded. "Will you play with me?" Pleading green eyes turned to the boys and Quatre felt his heart melt. How could he say no to a look like that?

"Of course we will," Quatre declared, following Harry to the monkey bars and watching the child clamber across them, slipping from his mittens several times. The blond giggled and caught him around the waist to help him as Harry kept going, a huge grin on his young features. Trowa watched for a moment longer, then joined in. It seemed like everything was going to be fine after all.  
**oOooOo**

Sunday morning, Harry woke early and wandered into the hall, shocked to find Trowa and Quatre already awake. He frowned for a moment, considering. He'd woken up before Trowa, which made him wonder what time Trowa did wake up in the morning. Did Quatre get up then, too? Because that was awfully early to be awake _every_ _day_. Finally the boy shrugged and headed downstairs to find him new family. He smiled a little, liking the word. His family.

It was a very nice thought. Harry liked to think about Trowa and Quatre as his family, because he'd never really thought good things about his family before. Harry gave an excited shiver and headed toward the kitchen. Like Saturday, Trowa and Quatre were already there, though this time it was Quatre cooking breakfast while Trowa sipped at a cup of tea.

"Good morning, Harry," Quatre offered from the stove, giving the boy a bright smile. "Did you sleep well?"

"I like my new bed a lot," Harry chirruped, climbing up on the stool. "It's really comfy. Thank you for buying it for me, Quatre."

"It was nothing, green eyes," Quatre moved to ruffle his hair affectionately and then turned back to the eggs he had cooking. Harry blinked. He had never _not_ had to cook before, so watching someone else make bacon and eggs was a new experience. Trowa passed him a glass of orange juice, which Harry sipped at slowly, enjoying the taste. Drinking anything but water was a novelty. He'd never really been allowed to have it, except for the milk he got at school. But he didn't like _that_ milk, because it tasted like cardboard, and he could only ever get the white kind because if he got chocolate, Dudley would steal it.

"May I have a sip of your tea, Trowa?" Harry asked, wondering what it tasted like.

Trowa blinked at him, his lips quirking in a smile. "Of course. Be careful, it's hot."

Harry nodded, blowing on it to cool it down, then took a sip, almost burning his lip and tongue in the process. He considered it for a moment. "It's kind of bitter."

"I don't put a lot of sugar in it. You might like how Duo makes it better. He tends to. . . well, it's more like jell-o when he's done." Trowa shrugged.

"I don't see how he drinks it like that, especially since he likes his coffee black," Quatre complained.

"You drink your tea black and add enough sweetner to your coffee to turn it into syrup," Trowa pointed out. "I don't think you have room to talk."

Quatre made a face at him, serving up the bacon and eggs and pour some milk for the three of them. Trowa set his tea to the side for breakfast, grabbing a plate of toast Harry had missed and sliding it to Quatre. Jam followed, but Trowa didn't pass the butter, as he preferred to butter it right from the toaster, when it was hot. Harry finished off his bacon and eggs before digging into the toast, slathering it with strawberry jam when Trowa gave him the go-ahead. "What're we doing today?" Harry asked around a mouthful.

"Swollow first." Quatre told him absently, then added, "We're going to get you a new backpack, because yours is ready to fall apart, and then we need to make a quick stop at the grocery store for a few things we don't have."

Harry's brows furrowed. "I really don't need a new backpack," He protested. "Mine is fine. You don't have to spend lots on me."

"Harry, your backpack is a mess." Trowa shook his head. "You need a new one, really you do."

Harry considered that, then had to agree. His backpack was ready to fall apart, and he had lost some things through the holes before. Still, he didn't want to go shopping again if it would be like the last time. That had taken _all day_! And then, when he was all done, he was really tired! "Will it take all day again?" He tried to to whine when he asked, just in case they got mad if he whined.

"No, Harry, it won't. We won't be gone long at all."

Harry gave a sigh of relief, rushing to the closet for his shoes, then going to be Trowa by the door. Because they weren't supposed to wear their shoes in the house, everyone would keep them in the large "mud room" off the garage. The room confused Harry a little, lined with cubbies for their shoes, and benches, as well as a rack by the door with slippers. Trowa had explained that since the house was so large, it was easier to keep most of their shoes in that room, so they would be easy to get to. What Harry didn't know was that all the gundam pilots were paranoid, so they kept a pair of boots in their room and another pair in the mud room so they wouldn't be caught off guard.

"Ready?" Quatre paused at the door long enough to choose a pair of keys. Harry tilted his head.

"You have more than one car?"

Quatre turned, grinning. "You bet. We have three cars, an SUV, a pickup, and each of us had a motorcycle. My bike and Trowa's are already here, but the others will arrive with our friends, since they are currently being used. We'll take the pick-up truck today."

"Why?" Harry followed him into the garage, clambering into a large, red truck.

"Secret," Quatre winked at him, tossing Trowa the keys. It wasn't so much that Quatre _couldn't_ drive the truck, but the truck was way to big. He had trouble getting the seat up to the peddles, and by the time he could reach the wheel, he was too close to the seat to work the peddles properly, but if he moved back he had difficulty steering. It was easier to let Trowa drive, since his legs--and arms--were long enough it wasn't an issue.

Harry pouted at Quatre's answer, but was excited to get out and run around for awhile. With his new family.

The thought made his grin. Again.

Quatre glanced back, smirking slightly at the look on Harry's face, then directed Trowa to a large store. Harry frowned, not recognizing the name, and followed the two inside. His eyes grew wide as he grinned. It was a sports store!

"Trowa forget a few things," Quatre explained. "Plus we'll get your backpacks here."

"More than one?"

"In the summer we like to hike. We'll go ahead and just buy you an appropriate one now, rather than wait. Then we won't have to do it when it's actually nice outside." Quatre shrugged, heading to the back of the store with the others in tow. "And it's silly for you to take a heavy duty pack like that to school."

Harry nodded in understanding. He'd rather get the shopping out of the way while it was gray and cold than when it was warm and sunny, too. Then Quatre headed to another part of the story, grinning mischivously as he covered Harry's eyes. Harry squawked a little in indignation, feeling Quatre turn him. "And how about that?" Quatre asked, pointing to a shiny, red bicycle.

Harry's eyes grew large. "Really?"

"That and a pair of rollar blades. And some safety gear." Quatre nodded. "For the summer as well, of course. We like to skate and bike. Though Duo is more fond of a skateboard." So was Hiiro, surprisingly. Zechs preferred a bike, but if he was wearing wheeled shoes he wanted flat out rollar skates. If the wheels were in a straight line, someone was in for it.

"Cool!" Harry rushed to the rollar blades, longing touching a few pairs. It didn't take them long to find a suitable pair and safety gear to go with it. Quatre also had Harry pick out a few pairs of sunglasses and Trowa, who had disappeared while Quatre and Harry had been choosing a bike and skates, reappeared with a small bag in his hands. Checking out and loading up the pickup--Harry suddenly understood why Quatre insisted they take it--they headed toward the next stop.

The grocery store was getting busy, since it was a weekend, but most people preferred to go in the afternoons after sleeping in. Quatre headed straight to the toiletries, picking out various shampoos and lotions and soaps. "Duo called me with the specifics," Quatre explained, tossing them into the cart. He also found the toothbrushes and tossed those in too. Trowa made a mental note to make an appointment with the doctor and dentist for Harry. A few other, needed items followed, and Quatre headed toward the produce section for a few things before they were ready to leave.

"That wasn't too long, was it?" Quatre checked the clock. Just under three hours. Not bad for everything they'd bought.

"Can we put my bike together today?" Harry pleaded. Quatre shrugged.

"I don't see why not. We can do it in the shop, where it's warm."

"The shop?" Harry frowned.

"That building to the other side of the garage," Quatre explained. Harry considered, then nodded. The building Quatre was talking about was just a little larger than the garage itself, about two stories with a basement, but Harry hadn't been inside. "We work on our own cares and things, so we keep our tools out there. There's a metal shop and woodshop, but you mustn't go out there without permission. It's very dangerous."

That and they would need time to hide certain things. While they kept their gundams in a warehouse on Sweeper property about ten minutes from the house by car, smaller things were taken to the shop to be repaired. There were other projects they kept that could be dangerous. They had a large chemistry laboratory in the basement for Duo to work with, and other, job related, tools as well as sensitive projects that Harry shouldn't poke around. The tools weren't the only dangerous things kept in the building.

"I won't," Harry promised, though he was still very excited about putting together his bike. He probably couldn't ride it until it grew warmer, but just having a bike was exciting. And if promising not to enter the shop without permission got it put together, he certainly would! Quatre gave him a smile and headed toward the shop with the box. Harry gaped in awe. It had taken two men to get it into the truck, but Quatre was carrying it easily. The boy glanced at everything else, but Trowa nudged him toward the shop.

"I'll put these away. Go on and have some fun. I'll join you in a few minutes."

Harry gave a small cheer and rushed away. This was so cool!  
**oOooOo**

Harry half skipped to the shop next to Quatre, amazed the blond could carry the heavy box holding his bicycle the entire way without setting it down. He remembered Uncle Vernon buying Dudley a bike. He huffed and puffed all the way to the garage and had to set the box down a lot of times. Quatre was a lot stronger than Uncle Vernon! "So we're really going to put it together now?" Harry asked, his green eyes alight with happiness. He'd never had a bike, and he'd never had any one just drop everything and do something for him before.

Quatre let him into the shop and dumped the parts out of the box, carefully so as not to lose any, and grabbed the few tools he'd need. Harry leaned close, unsure of himself. He really, really wanted to help, but he had no idea what he was doing. And Quatre probably wouldn't want him to slow down the process, because no one _wanted_ to spend a lot of time around him, but Harry really, really wanted to help. Quatre glanced up at the boy and gave a small smile. "You're going to put it together, Harry," Quatre told him, grabbing a wrench. "I'm just going to help."

Harry's eyes grew large. "I can?"

"Sure. This is your bike, so you can build it." Quatre lifted the frame and blatantly ignored the directions. Harry glanced at the paper, then to Quatre, who grinned and winked.

When Trowa walked in twenty minutes later, Harry and Quatre were attempting to attach a peddle to the handlebars and laughing like drunks. Trowa sighed. "What are you doing?"

"It's fun!" Harry cried, giggling. Grease smeared his cheek and nose. "Quatre said to just try to figure it out myself, and we'd bother with directions later! He's letting me do anything I want, as long as I don't break it or hurt myself." He put the seat on the place for the handlebars, watching it dangle loosely. Trowa rolled his eyes heavenward. Quatre could build a gundam, but he couldn't put together a bicycle.

The blond seemed to realize what Trowa was thinking and gave him a wink. He was letting Harry play, because it was likely Harry had never put a bicycle together before, and it would be a chance to get him used to the shop and the tools in it. Already Quatre had taught him about the basic tools--the screwdriver, the wrench, the hammer, and the all-important blow-torch (Trowa didn't ask about that one), and some basics for shop safety. Trowa didn't comment on it since it seemed Harry was enjoying the time he spent with his new guardians, and when the bike finally was complete, he was proud to wheel it to the side of the garage.

"You don't want to ride it?" Quatre asked, sipping on some iced tea that Trowa had brought.

Harry blinked at them, then shook his head. "I don't know how."

The planitive answer made both of the boys tense. While Trowa hadn't had the best childhood, even he had been taught to ride a bike. Quatre bit his lip, moving to grab a small bag Trowa hadn't noticed. "I bought you training wheels," The blond admitted softly. Trowa snapped around to face him. Quatre had suspected that Harry couldn't ride a bike. He had already guessed that the child had been deprived of even that. "So you may learn to ride it. When you are a little more comfortable, probably this summer, we'll teach you to ride it without them."

Harry's face lit up and he announced something Trowa was still too stunned to listen to. He had thought he'd known what Harry's life had been like, but. . . did he really? Green eyes darkened. Those damned Dursleys would pay!  
**oOooOo**

Monday morning found Harry awake early, since he'd been in bed by nine. He'd even had Trowa and Quatre read him a story. It was a lot cooler than when Dudley used to have stories read to him, because the two pilots had done the voices, too. He snuggled into his covers for a moment, yawning and stretching before nuzzling his stuffed dog and getting out of bed. Trowa and Quatre were awake already, and Harry was surprised they got up so early all the time. Most people their age liked to sleep in as much as they could.

Trowa greeted him cheerfully in the kitchen, up to his elbows in bread dough. Harry moved to watch him knead it while Quatre sipped at his tea and read the morning paper. "We have to work a little bit today, Harry," Trowa commented, setting the dough aside. "So you'll be on your own for awhile, but we'll be upstairs in our offices if you need us."

Harry blinked. "You don't mind if I inturrupt?"

"Not at all," Quatre looked up, smiling. Harry almost did a double-take. It was _weird_ to watch him read the paper and sip at his tea like an adult, especially when Harry knew he was only sixteen. "For anything you need. Although I will admit, the less you do, the faster we get done."

Harry grinned and nodded, hopping up onto the barstool and eagerly waiting for breakfast. From the smell in the kitchen, someone had made a breakfast casserol, and Harry was eager to try it. It smelled really, really good and Harry could tell his mouth was watering. "How long do you think you'll take?"

"A few hours, maybe. Why?"

"Well. . . I wanted to play with you after," Harry admitted shyly, toeing the carpet. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all," Trowa pulled the casserol from the oven. "Looks good, Quatre."

"If its not, I blame Duo. It's his recipe," Quatre chuckled. "But it smells all right."

"Can we eat?" Harry squirmed in his chair.

"It's got to cool for just a few minutes, but if you want to set the table--I guess it's the bar, really--it'll go that much faster."

Harry out of his seat almost before Quatre had finished, grabbing plates. He carefully set each of them a place at the bar, and poured himself a small glass of orange juice and a larger one of milk. By the time he was done Trowa deemed the casserol sufficiently cooled and plopped a large piece on his plate. Harry waited impatiently for the others to get some, then dug in ravenously. Quatre and Trowa exhanged looks. It was almost like Harry was trying to make up for lost time.

That or his metabolism was speeding up again, and he was burning calories incredibly quickly. "We've got to get him to a doctor," Quatre muttered so only Trowa could hear. "Do you think we can take him in this week?"

"I'd have to call, but they'd probably make him a priority if you dropped your name," Trowa eyed Harry for a moment longer, then returned to his breakfast. "Why?"

"He does some things that. . . I'm not certain are healthy." Quatre frowned again. Harry had a tendency to horde food, which Trowa had previously noticed, and he tended to walk in a bit of a slouch. His feet also concerned both of them because he'd worn shoes too small for him for quite some time. They also wanted to make sure he got enough vitamins, but didn't want to start anything until he'd been checked by a doctor.

"We can call this morning," Trowa soothed, finishing his food. "And call the dentist, too."

"Yes, of course. I'll handle that." Quatre would get Harry in much faster. "Remind me to call Howard later, please?"

"All right." Trowa wasn't certain what for, exactly, but he wouldn't forget either.

"I'm done!" Harry announced, and requested to be excused. Quatre shooed him off and the boy eagerly rushed from the room to continue to explore the house. The two pilots chuckled a little, then headed to their offices. Today would certainly be interesting.  
**oOooOo**

Harry set aside the book he'd been reading and grabbed Padfoot from the floor. It was afternoon already, and Trowa and Quatre were still surrounded by work. He gave a small frown. They had thought they would be done already, but it had just kept piling up! He pouted a bit, moving from the library to the bedrooms. Trowa and Quatre had said he could poke around a bit in their rooms, just to see what was there, but that he needed to knock if he thought people were inside.

He poked his head inside, blinking slightly. The two had added more pictures and a few more things to the walls. A canopy now hung over the bed, and it looked more like the inside of a sultan's palace. Harry grinned to himself and tip-toed inside. It didn't matter if he got caught, but it was fun to pretend. Looking around, it was easy to believe Quatre spent time in the lavish room, but when he thought about Trowa in there he almost didn't fit. But the soft greens and golds and browns were just Trowa's colors.

Moving to the dresser, Harry peered inside. Not much of interest. Shirts, pants, underclothes. Ties and suits and shoes and sweaters in the closet, some candles spread around the room and incense on the dresser. A few pieces of jewelry were tucked here and there, but a silver glint made Harry shift towards the nightstand. It had to belong to Quatre, since Harry recognized a few of Trowa's things on the other side.

He shifted a book out of the way and gaped. Quatre had a gun on his nightstand? He glanced around, poking it cautiously, then carefully picked it up. The door creaked open behind him, and Quatre gave him a small smile, which was quickly replaced and Quatre paled rapidly, his face shifting to an emotion Harry couldn't identify. "Harry!" The shout was loud, and Harry nearly dropped the gun in his hands. The blond rushed forward, taking it away. "Don't touch things like that!"

"Quatre?"

"You should know better, Harry! Those things are dangerous! You can't go around poking into things, you might get hurt!" Harry shrank back. Mr. Quatre was really, really mad. "Come on." Quatre grabbed the child's wrist, yanking him from the room, tucking the gun away somewhere on his person as he moved. Harry's lips trembled. Mr. Quatre would take him to Trowa and they would both hurt him, and probably lock him up somewhere, and then they'd take him back to the Dursleys!

His green eyes widened further. What if Mr. Quatre was like Uncle Vernon and he _shot_ him with the gun? Uncle Vernon had always said he'd shoot Harry, if he ever got a gun. Tears formed in his eyes. He didn't want to be shot!

"TROWA!" Quatre's yell made him jump, the tears in his eyes streaking down his cheeks. "GET DOWN HERE!"

"I'll be good," Harry whimpered, flinching back as Quatre turned to face him. "Please don't shoot me!"

Quatre halted, staring at Harry for several long moments. "I beg your pardon?"

"I be good, Mr. Quatre! Please don't shoot me!" Harry was crying, hiding his face in his free arm, trying to pull his wrist from Quatre's. "I didn't mean to pick up the gun! I just saw it on the nightstand and I was curious. . . _please_, don't shoot me, Mr. Quatre! I'll be a good boy from now on!"

The anger bled from Quatre's face almost as quickly as it appeared, the small blond pulling Harry gently into his arms. "Oh, green eyes," Quatre breathed, holding Harry tightly. "I would never shoot you."

"What's going on?" Trowa didn't want to make the situation worse, and was careful to keep his voice level.

"Did that cow really tell Harry he would shoot him?" Quatre demanded, lifting Harry from the ground and moving to one of the small sitting rooms. Harry was still far too light for his age and size, and fit into Quatre's arms perfectly. Harry, despite rarely being held in any way, buried his face in Quatre's shoulder.

"Unfortunately," Trowa sat next to his lover. "Harry told me about it when he first saw my gun. What happened?"

"I walked in on him holding one of my guns," Quatre explained. "The one I keep in the nightstand. I was so afraid. . . the safety was on, but what if. . . I was scared Harry would hurt himself. . . what if he'd managed to arm it? What if something malfunctioned and he'd been hurt. . . Allah, he could have _died_, Trowa!"

Trowa had never heard Quatre quite so shaken, and frowned. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. . . I just. . . I guess I scared him when I yelled." Quatre rested his cheek against the child's hair, hugging him close. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"Didn't mean to make you mad," Harry whimpered in reply, clinging to Quatre.

"I wasn't mad, Harry. I was terrified." Quatre forced the boy to unbury his face from Quatre's shoulder. Watery green met frightened teal, and Harry burst into another round of sobs. Quatre blinked, startled. "Harry?"

"No one ever cared before!" The boy managed, curling back into Quatre's embrace, his thin arms clutching the elder's neck. "I thought you'd take me back!"

"We are _never_ going to take you back there." Quatre hissed, holding him again and shifting so Trowa could rub gentle circles on the boy's back. "Ever."

Harry didn't answer, just kept clinging to the blond like a limpet for quite some time as his tears died down. He finally wiped his face and blew his nose on the offered handkerchief before moving off Quatre's lap and standing in front of them, staring at the floor. "Do. . . Do I have to move to a closet, now?" He didn't want to move to a closet and leave his lovely room, but he'd been so very bad that surely he wouldn't be allowed to stay in the room. Bad boys don't have their own rooms, and Harry was one of the worst. Bad boys slept in closets, like animals. Bad boys didn't get toys. People didn't love bad boys.

"Why do you think we would make you move to a closet?" Trowa caught the younger's chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Because I'm bad and people don't love bad boys." Harry muttered, averting his eyes.

"Do you really think we don't love you?" Harry shook his head, refusing to answer. He didn't want to say yes, because he really, really, really wanted Trowa and Quatre and all the others to love him. He really wanted them too, but he was bad! He was always bad! He did things he wasn't supposed to all the time, and he couldn't be loved because only good boys were loved.

"Look at me, Harry." Trowa's voice was firm. "Do you really think we don't love you?"

Harry finally looked at him, staring into green eyes that so resembled his own. "I want you to." Then he waited to be hit. He knew he'd be hit. Uncle Vernon always hit him if he said he wanted to be loved, because he was so bad it was just a silly dream. So Uncle Vernon always told him no one could love him, and then he'd be hit, and then he'd be thrown into his cupboard.

"Listen to me, Harry," When Trowa didn't hit him, Harry felt himself hope, just a little bit. "We do love you. We will always love you. You may do bad things, but that doesn't mean we will stop loving you. Do you understand?"

"Yes." He didn't, not really, and Trowa knew it. But, for now, they would accept Harry's answer.

"Quatre was afraid you'd hurt yourself. Guns are very dangerous. I know I never mentioned it before, but I don't want you touching any of the weapons you come across in the house, all right? They are all very dangerous. Promise?"

"Promise." Harry readily agreed. "Why do you have so many weapons, anyway?"

Trowa's eyes were gentle. "I promise we'll tell you sometime, but I want you to meet everyone else first, all right?"

Harry nodded hesitently, then glanced at Quatre. "Mr. Quatre? Are you. . . are you still mad at me?"

Quatre held out his arms in a clear invitation for Harry to hug him, and shook his head. "Trowa's quite right, green eyes. I was just very afraid you'd be hurt. Like Trowa said, guns are very dangerous. Don't ever touch them unless we say to, okay?"

"Okay," Harry whispered back, smiling at the blond. "I promise. Are you going to punish me?"

"Not this time, I think. You and Quatre managed to punish each other more than enough," Trowa sighed. "Scaring each other like that. We have to go back to work, now, but we'll be done by supper. We can play afterward. Is that okay?"

Harry nodded, considering. "May I help cook tonight?"

"Of course. I'll be down ealier than Quatre, okay?" Trowa pressed a kiss to the child's forehead, and rose to his feet. "Behave."

"I will," Harry stiffened for a moment, then hugged Trowa impulsively. Trowa froze, startled, but managed to hug Harry back before the boy felt he'd done something wrong. Quatre smiled, also stopping at the door to give Harry a hug and followed Trowa up the stairs. Harry watched them leave, then let his knees give out, sending him to the floor.

"They want me," Harry's voice was awed, his green eyes wide. No one had ever wanted him before.  
**oOooOo**

**oOooOo**  
_TO EVERYONE:_ While I don't normally don't put notes down here, this chapter does dictate one. In this chapter, Harry picks up a gun from the nightstand and Quatre takes it from him. There are several notes I want to make about that. First, do _not_ grab guns from people. When I pictured Harry holding the gun, it was flat on his hands, and his fingers were nowhere near the trigger. Also, Quatre was behind him, the gun facing away from them both. When Quatre took it, he lifted it like he was lifting it off the floor, not like he was taking it from someone holding it properly (Or even semi-properly). Harry was not gripping the gun at all, and Quatre never put a finger to the trigger, never took off the safety, and _never pointed it at anyone_. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea about how to handle weapons from this chapter. Harry will learn more gun safety later, and I will probably make several more points about firearm safety down here since I know some people have never been around them. While I don't use firearms (even wearing earplugs or gunmufflers, the noise hurts my ears) I have spent a lot of time around them. I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea about weapon handling or what happened between Harry and Quatre. I don't mean to sound mean or anything, but I do want everyone to remember that guns are weapons and that Harry was in a highly dangerous situation just picking it up.


	9. Winner's Influence

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Nine  
Winner's Influence

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing or Harry Potter. If you haven't figured this out by now. . . maybe you should seek help of some kind.

**Warnings:** Harry cuteness (of course) and Slash (of course).

**Pairings:** 1x2, 3x4, 5x6

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry this took so long. I was battling terrible writer's block, and it was just all around awful. You will be pleased to note, however, that my wonderful beta, Tempest Rose, has already gotten her hands on this and fixed it for me. Good for you and me both, ne? I also want to add that Dentelle and Jess are always helping me. Jess especially, this time. If not for her, this chapter probably would be here.

_To Stained Wolf  
and  
Everyone asking about the other pilots:_ The others are coming very shortly. Not this chapter, but very, very soon. I promise that!

_To padfoot's shadow:_ Sorry, no gundam run-ins for the Dursleys. But I have _plans_ regarding them. So no worries.

_To kirallie:_ I don't think they'd make them hard to find, just because that'd make them hard to get to. Besides, I fully believe that wouldn't stop children from getting them anyway and the best way to prevent accidents is education. We had guns all over my house an never had a problem. It's the people that don't understand how dangerous they are that cause the rest of us problems. (You know that saying about how gun safety is using both hands? Yeah, something like that. Lol.)

_ToTrenchcoatMan:_ Sally isn't going to be Harry's doctor since Harry's still a kid and she specializes in Gundam Pilots--I mean, adults. Heh. Seriously, though, pediatrics is a little different that other medicine, just because children are still developing, so Harry will be seeing a pediatrition for awhile. Sally might offer advice for smaller issues, like colds or cuts, but she won't be Harry's main doctor.

_To everyone asking about accidental magic:_ Yes, Harry will show it. He is still a magic child, even if I don't take this particular story into Hogwarts (which would be left for a sequel, should I chose to write it).

_To KeiGenya:_ Flight of the Bumblebee has nothing to do with Dumbeldore, actually. The title really comes from a classical song (redone by a band called Trans-Siberean Orchestra for Bethovan's Last Night with eletric guitars), and is a favorite of mine. The title started as a working title that stuck, because when I thought of Harry, he was a little liek a bumblebee. He was always told he couldn't fly, but then he had the chance to spread his wings. So the title, while not referencing Dumbledore, still has a great deal of meaning.

_To everyone that commented about my note on the guns:_ I'm glad the note was well read and well recieved. I'm a little surprised so many of you read it and commented on it being there. Thank you! (At least I now know you listen to me, Lol.).

_To everyone writing to me about how worried they are I'll abandon this:_ I will not. For a few reasons. First, I love the concept and I can't pciture not finishing it. Second, I think half of you would be after my blood. And I know a couple of people that would come after me know where I actually live and could get said blood. Seeing how I like my blood where it is (in me, thanks,) then I'll certainly have to finish, ne?

_To everyone:_ I'm glad you all like FotBB and thank you all for your reviews. I'm already well on my way to four hundred, and I'm seriously hoping that, by the time I'm done, I'll actually break a thousand. I've never gone into four digits before, and every review makes me so happy to get. But, as always, I don't hold my fics hostage for reviews (even when my hiatus is so long it seems like it), so as much as I like that, I'm hardly demanding them.

I am going to demand one last favor, though.  
Enjoy chapter nine!  
**oOooOo**

Harry groaned and rolled over, not understanding what the beeping was coming from. He put his hands over his ears and rushed to Trowa and Quatre's room, banging on the still closed door. He could tell they were awake, though, because the light was on inside. Trowa poked his head out, raising an eyebrow, hair still sleep-mussed. "What's wrong?"

"Something's beeping in my room," Harry explained. "I don't know what I broke."

Trowa tilted his head, listening, then gave a tiny smile. "That's your clock, remember?"

Black brows furrowed in a slight pout as the child considered, and then he nodded. "I forgot. I've never had an alarm clock before. Sorry, Trowa."

"It's fine, Harry. Do you remember how to turn it off?" At Harry's nod, Trowa asked if he needed help getting ready for school. Harry gave his head a shake and hurried back to his room, finding the switch to turn off his clock and moving to his closet. It was still very dark outside, but Harry didn't mind. In fact, he was very excited! He started his brand new school today! Trowa and Quatre had told him all about it, where it was and what it would be like, and they'd hung his new uniform on the closet door. Harry grinned and pulled on the charcol colored trousers, white shirt, and sweater-vest. He would need help with his tie, but knew Trowa or Quatre would teach him. It was kind of exciting to wear the uniform, because his old school didn't have them. Not to mention that Harry thought his uniform made him look quite smart.

It had become unpopular in primary schools for students to wear uniforms about fifty years prior, and only since the end of the war were several regular schools reinstating the practice. Only the most prestigious of schools made all their students wear uniforms, which made Harry wonder, exactly, where he was headed to school. He knew the name, of course, but it really hadn't told him much and Trowa and Quatre hadn't seemed to know much either. Harry touched the coat of arms embroidered on the breast of his sweater. "Mercury Grammar School." He frowned a little, but gathered up his backpack and hurried to get some breakfast. His shoes were already downstairs in the mud room.

"You look quite sharp, Harry," Quatre complimented, pausing to help Harry with the blood-red tie he was holding. "Does it fit all right?"

"It's fine." Harry slowly turned to let Quatre and Trowa see the whole uniform. "It's great! I've never been to a school that made us wear uniforms before! And it looked so pretty when you pointed it out Sunday!" They had driven by the school on the way home from shopping, so Quatre had pointed it out to him. The old building was styled from the pre-colony era, and looked very grand. Quatre had also pointed out the large building across the street that housed the secondary school where Harry would later go. It really was pre-colony era and was absolutely beautiful. Quatre had said it had once been a castle.

"Are you excited about school?" Trowa grinned at his cousin. Harry clapped his hands, nodding.

"I hope I'm not too far behind," Harry admitted, biting his lip. "What if I'm just really stupid? Quatre said the school was ele-elti-elit. . . um. . . for important people, and I'm really not that important."

"That's all right, Harry. It's not only for important people. I'm sure you'll make lots of friends." Trowa put a bowl of oatmeal in front of the boy, and took one for himself, but handed something white and creamy to Quatre.

"What's that?" Harry leaned over to sniff at it. It smelled kind of good, but he was hesitent to eat it.

"Cream of wheat. I hate oatmeal, but this is heavier than plain cereal," Quatre explained, adding some sugar and eating the hot dish carefully.

"You don't like oatmeal?"

"It's a texture thing, I think. But I'm not fond of the flavor either." Quatre shrugged. "Trowa and I are going into the office in London today. Do you think you'll be okay at school?"

"I'll be all right," Harry giggled. "I've been going to school for a very long time, now."

"I have no doubt. Oh, and before I forget," Quatre left the table for a moment to collect something from the counter. It looked a little like a cell phone, but only had seven keys, and no numbers. "This is an emergency phone. It's been programed with all our numbers. If you press the up or down button, it'll take you through the list we've added." Quatre demonstrated it, showing Harry how to access their house, cell, and work numbers. Harry was surprised to see the other Gundam pilots already on the phone, but Quatre hadn't wanted to bother adding them later. Then number for Harry's school was also in it, just in case he needed it, and so were two words Harry didn't understand.

"What's ice got to do with anything?" Harry prodded the phone.

"I-C-E," Trowa broke in. "It means 'in case of emergency.' That's the number someone else is supposed to call if you get hurt to get a hold of us."

"Then what do I hit the one that says 'panic,' for?" The panic button was in the actual list, but there was also a red button on the phone for Harry to press for it as well. That button was covered in plastic.

"That is a little different." Quatre's face was level and serious. "I am a very important person, Harry. People might try to hurt you because of you connection with me, or one of my friends. If you hit the panic button, it activates a tracking device in the phone, sends an alarm to my personal guard, and notifies me and Trowa, and the rest of our friends. If you're in danger, you hit that button and keep your phone close so we can find you, all right?"

Harry nodded, feeling a little scared. "Would they really hurt me?"

"I'm not going to lie and say it doesn't happen, but I also won't lie and say it happens often. People don't generally mess with me." Quatre ruffled the boy's hair. "Don't worry about it so much. But don't call us in school unless you really have to, either. They allow these phones in the building, but they don't like you to use them during class."

"I won't. I'll be responsible," Harry promised. "Thank you for the present."

"You're welcome. Do you like it?"

Harry nodded. It was the same green as his eyes, and he really did like it. Still feeling nervous, about his new school and the news Quatre had given him with the phone, Harry managed only a few more bites of breakfast. Trowa glanced at the time, shooing Harry up the stairs to brush his teeth, then the three were all running out the door. Harry tied his shoes in the car and blinked when Quatre handed him what he thought was a lunch box, but it was all weird and wrapped in cloth. "What's this?"

"It's called a bento," Trowa didn't look away from the road to see what Harry was talking about. "Hiiro sent it for you to use as a lunch box. It keeps all your food separate, and Hiiro likes to pack our lunches for us a lot." It was still a shock to know how much Hiiro really liked to cook, and while he didn't pack traditional Japanese lunches often, the boxes were very convenient for any sort of food placed in them. The separate part of the tray meant they didn't have to add a container for every different food they wanted.

"Bent-o?" Harry repeated.

"Be-n-to," Quatre corrected.

"And it's really a lunchbox?"

"It's a Japanese lunchbox. We all have one, and Hiiro wanted to send one for you. I'm sure he'll make you get all kinds of goodies when he gets here." The two pilots traded smiles. Whether or not Harry would actually eat some of what Hiiro cooked remained to be seen.

"What's in it today?"

"Himitsu," Quatre teased, winking. "It's a secret. Don't open it until lunch."

"Quatre!" Harry whined as Trowa pulled to a stop.

"Harry!" Quatre whined back in form as Trowa shooed Harry from the car and got out after him. "We're going to take you in, today. Is that okay?"

"Yeah!" Harry grabbed the tied cloth of the lunchbox and reach for Trowa's hand. Quatre followed closely behind, wearing what Trowa liked to call his "hard-ass-CEO-face." Trowa had to hide a snicker at the look on Quatre's face. Harry didn't notice; too busy staring at the grandiose school in awe. The building itself was mostly stone, built in the archaic gothic architecture so favored pre-colony for its grand rooms and romantic settings. The principal's office was just as nice, and the man who met them at the door was dressed neatly in an expensive suit. His dark, thinning hair was obviously cut by a good stylist, and Quatre was relieved he didn't feel the need to comb it over or wear and ugly wig.

"Mr. Winner?" The man held out a hand. "Welcome to Mercury Grammar School. I'm Principal Dedrikson, pleasure to have you here today."

"Good morning, Principal," Quatre greeted, shaking the man's hand. "I've enrolled Harry Potter here, today. He was supposed to go to Dobbinpoint, but we were offered a place here."

"I see. Dobbinpoint is a fine school, though not as good as this establishment," Principal Dedrikson nodded. "I am certain Harry will enjoy his time here." The man offered, smiling. Quatre and Trowa nodded in reply. The man seemed nice enough, if nothing more.

"This is Harry," Trowa tugged Harry out from behind him gently, and Harry gave a little bow and blushed lightly. The principal smiled, patting the child on the head.

"It is very nice to meet you, Harry."

"Y-you too, sir," Harry whispered, wondering what he was doing in such a nice school. Surely he wasn't actually there to attend school. It was much too nice for a freak like him. Tugging Trowa's sleeve softly, Harry got his cousin to kneel down so he could whisper in the elder's ear. "I'm not really going to school here, am I?"

"Of course you are, Harry," Trowa hugged him tightly. "This is a good school. You'll like it here, I'm sure."

The small nine year old chewed his lip. "But. . . it looks so expensive and. . . and I don't have any money." He knew things cost a lot of money, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always complained about it.

"Don't worry about it. This school doesn't cost that much." Trowa didn't even wince at his lie. Of course, it didn't cost that much. At least, not to Quatre.

Harry nodded, reluctantly, and let Principal Dedrikson lead them down the hall and show them around a bit. The school truly was beautiful, and Harry was excited to learn there. Quatre and Trowa looked in several of the classrooms and nodded in approval. Although the school was built to show off it's prestigious heritage, the classrooms were bright and friendly, made so the children would learn in the very best environment. "And this is Harry's classroom," The principal pointed to numbered and decorated door. It was a nice, spring landscape, and Harry could see clouds with the children's names. Trowa tapped one softly, and Harry's face lit up. That was his name!

"I'll leave you here to get him situated and say good-bye. Please, take all the time you need." The principal patted Trowa and Quatre on the shoulders and fluffed Harry's hair before walking away. Trowa and Quatre exchanged looks, smiling. The school was very nice. Harry just watched them for a moment longer.

"Can I go in by myself?" Harry asked, toeing the ground. He was nervous, but he didn't want Trowa to go in with him. It would make him look like a big baby.

"Of course. We'll stay out in the hall for a moment, just to make sure you get situated all right, and then we'll go. Remember, if you have problems, you may call us." Quatre kissed the crown of his head hugged him tightly. Trowa did the same before he knocked. The teacher poked her head out, and gave a bright smile.

She was very tall and full-figured, but was not overweight--she couldn't be, since she chased children around all day--and had short brown hair and bright brown eyes. A brilliant smile revealed a dimple in one, pale cheek and she bent to look Harry in the eye. "You must be the new student. Harry Potter, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry blushed.

"Aren't you sweet?" Her smile grew, and Harry ducked his head, locking his hands behind his back. "I'm Miss Grace. It's nice to meet you, Harry." She held out a hand to shake, which Harry took hesitantly, before smiling at Trowa and following her into the room. Miss Grace gave the Gundam pilots a smile and wink before shutting the door softly. Trowa and Quatre chuckled. Harry'd been in the door and away from them before he'd even known what was happening. A quick glance in the window showed that Harry was fine, and the two slipped out.

Harry was staring around the classroom, green eyes bright in awe. There were about thirty students, and another, slightly younger, woman sat in the back. Miss Grace smiled at him. "That's Miss Mika," She told him. The woman was at least partially Asian, with braided black hair and tilted charcoal colored eyes. "She's my assistant."

Harry nodded, waving at her a bit, and then stared at the rest of the room. Uncertainly, he stepped a little closer to the teacher. "Class, we have a brand-new student today. This is Harry Potter. Harry, will you tell the class a little about yourself?" Miss Grace offered an encouraging smile.

"H-hi," Harry waved shyly. "I. . . I'm Harry Potter. I live with my cousin Trowa and his boyfriend, Quatre, and. . . and I like the color green, and I'm from Little Whinging, Surry. I just moved here over the weekend."

"Okay. Now, I'm going to take three questions for Harry and then assign him a cubby and a seat. Raise your hands if you have something to ask." Miss Grace glanced around the room, pointing to a little blue-eyed girl with blond pig-tails.

"Is Trowa a girl? It sounds like a boy's name."

"Trowa's a boy," Harry frowned. "He just has a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend."

The girl tilted her head in thought, and then nodded. "I have an aunt with a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend, so I guess that's okay."

The rest of the class just shrugged, and the teacher decided it was best to move on. A little boy in the back was almost bouncing off his chair, waving his hand wildly. To his credit, he didn't say anything until Miss Grace pointed at him, but it was obviously a near thing. "Do you like mobile suits? I collect them. Well, the action figures anyway."

"I haven't ever seen a mobile suit. I wasn't allowed to watch the telly before I moved in with Trowa, so I never got to see them." Harry frowned. "But some of the action figures look pretty cool. Especially the Gundam ones. Those are really neat."

Miss Grace cut them both off, taking the last question from a mousy little girl in the back with heavy glasses, who would raise her hand, then quickly put it down, then raise it again and repeat the cycle. She looked unbearably nervous. "D--do you like Rochester so far?" She squeaked out. The rest of the class sighed and groaned, rolling their eyes. She always asked the weirdest questions.

"Yes, very much. The house I live in is really, really big, and Trowa and Quatre are really cool." Harry grinned happily. "And so far, the school is really cool, too."

"That's very good, Harry." Miss Grace showed him where his cubby was, allowing him to put his lunch and backpack inside, and then let him to his desk. Harry slipped into his seat, glancing at the students around him. "Alistair will show you around today."

Alistair was about Harry's size, maybe a touch shorter, with curly sand colored hair and dark brown eyes. "I'm Alistair Septum," He greeted, holding out a hand. "But everyone calls me Ali." A small bruise marred the side of his face, near his left eye, and Harry noticed another around his wrist.

"It's very nice to meet you," Harry offered, unsure of himself. Were all the children at these schools so polite? It would be nice, because that meant none of them would hit him, but Harry wasn't sure if he liked it or not. What was the fun of being all stiff all the time? Quatre and Trowa weren't, and they were really important people. Or, at least Harry thought they were very important people.

"We're on page thirty two," Ali offered quietly, glancing at Harry shyly though his shaggy, blond bangs. Harry pulled out his English workbook and glanced over it, finding that he really wasn't far behind and decided he could get the rest of the answers from Ali later. Ali didn't say anything, just smiled at him again and quickly turned back to his book. Harry shrugged and looked back at the teacher.

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully, with Ali helping Harry out with the work every now and then when they covered things Harry hadn't done at his other school. For the most part, however, he seemed to be fine with his work, and knew he wouldn't have any problems catching up. Hurrying to get his lunch, he saw several students give him strange looks. "What kind of lunchbox is that?" Ali asked, looked at it with sharp curiosity.

"This is a bento box," Harry admitted. "It's a Japanese lunch box. Trowa's friend sent it to me."

"What's in it?"

"I don't know. Quatre wouldn't let me look." Harry sat next to Ali in the cafeteria and carefully untied the cloth around the box, then pulled it open. His green eyes widened and he grinned. It wasn't a Japanese lunch, that much was certain, but it was Harry's favorite. A neatly made roast beef sandwich and carrot sticks and cucumber, a serving of applesauce and two chocolate chip cookies. They were big and Harry couldn't wait to eat one. But he knew better than to start with dessert. Trowa would have shaken a finger at him.

"Wow, that looks good," Ali breathed, pulling out his own lunchbox. It was a western one, made of plastic insulation and with plastic containers inside. Harry glanced at Ali's lunch, and then frowned. It was a sandwich and apple, and the sandwich looked like Ali had made it himself, a messy conglomeration of peanut butter and jelly.

"Do you have to make your own lunch?" Harry asked, tilting his head.

"Oh. . . um. . . I just wanted to do it today," Ali smiled. "I like to make my lunch." Harry nodded, turning when the teacher asked him if he needed to buy milk. Harry shook his head. Trowa had given him a thermos of milk to go with his lunch, but Harry hadn't paid it much attention in the excitement of the neat lunchbox. Ali patted his pockets for a moment, and then shook his head.

"I must have forgotten my money," Ali admitted, blushing. "Thank you, Miss Grace."

Harry frowned. He didn't have any money, but the thermos was big enough to share. "Is there a cup we can use? Ali can share with me."

"I'm sure I can find one," Miss Grace smiled at him, and Ali turned brighter red.

"You don't have to share with me, Harry. It's not a big deal."

"But peanut butter isn't any good without something to drink," Harry waggled a finger. "So we'll share mine."

"But. . . oh," Ali chewed his lip for a moment. "Thank you."

Harry smiled happily, pouring half the thermos in the cup Miss Grace had found, and then munched enthusiastically on his lunch. It was really, really good! Ali ate his own, finishing quickly, and Harry handed him one of the cookies. Ali protested, but Harry ignored him. A sandwich and apple weren't enough food for anyone! Besides, he wasn't greedy like Dudley. Cookies were meant to be shared.

Ali led Harry to the playground, waving happily to someone Harry didn't know, a smile blooming on his features. "Lance! Lance! Over here!"

Harry squinted a bit, seeing a taller boy running toward them. He was probably a head taller than Harry, with curly brown hair and bright blue eyes. The child skidded to a halt in front of them both, hands on his knees and panting. "This is Lancelot Noventa," Ali explained, smiling. "He's my best friend."

"Call me Lance, though," The boy added, making a face. "Only Grandma calls me Lancelot. I hate that name."

Harry smiled shyly, nodded. "It's nice to meet you."

"Do you like mobile suits?" Lance waved a hand. "I brought some to play with today. Want to play?"

"Which ones do you have?" Ali leaned in, brown eyes wide.

"I have all the Gundams, including Tallgeese, and I have some mobile dolls." Lance produced the requested suits, and Harry followed them to the edge of the sand so they could play in peace.

"Let me be Sandrock, please," Ali pleaded.

"Harry should pick first," Lance scolded, holding out the figures. Harry shook his head. He didn't know how to play mobile suits. He'd never been allowed, and Dudley had never shared.

"I don't know how to play," Harry admitted, shamefaced.

"I didn't either, until Lance taught me," Ali confessed. "Come on! We'll teach you. Which one do you like best?"

Harry chewed his lip, looking them over. Hesitantly he picked one, and Lance grinned. "That's Wing Zero. It's a good choice. That one turns into a plane."

Harry nodded, watching Ali choose another and grin widely at him. Lance held out his hand again. "There are six suits, and three of us, so pick again." Harry nibbled his lip, choosing a red one, and Lance nodded. "Heavyarms." Harry nodded, even though he had no idea what a heavyarms was, and let Lance and Ali teach him to play mobile suits.

At the end of recess, Harry didn't want to go back to the classroom for the first time in his life. He wanted to stay and play with his friends, instead. That thought stopped him short, making him glance at the other two boys. "Ali? We're. . . we're friends, right?"

Ali gave Harry a big, toothy smile. "Of course! Lance said he'll bring the mobile suits back tomorrow, if we want. Do you want to play with us tomorrow, to?"

Harry nodded emphatically, and skipped after Ali. This was great! He loved school, and he finally, finally had friends.

He couldn't wait to tell Trowa!  
**oOooOo  
**  
Trowa and Quatre both picked him up after school and, for a special treat, took him out for ice cream. Harry, excited about his day, told the two of them everything. "And, I got to play with mobile suit action figures!" Harry crowed, making the older boys exchanged looks. Quatre grinned.

"What kind of mobile suits were they?"

"Lance had Gundams and mobile dolls, and we pretended to totally wipe out the mobile dolls and save the world! I got to play with one called Wing Zero and another one called Heavyarms. Ali played with Sandrock and Tallgeese and Lance had Deathscythe and Altron. And it was so cool, because Wing Zero had a sword, and Heavyarms had this huge gun, and we got to beat up the bad guys! And then, after we destroyed the mobile dolls, we decided that the world was in trouble from a huge metorite, and we have to destory it, and Lance said that only Wing Zero's buster rifle could do it, so I got to be the hero!"

"Did you save the girl?" Trowa asked, smirking. Quatre hid a snicker behind his hand.

"No," Harry wrinkled his nose. "Girls are gross! I'm going to be like you instead, so I saved the boy! We had to use Ali, though, because Lance said he refused to be saved because he's not. . . He's not a damsel in distress. Besides, Ali looks more like Quatre."

Quatre coughed, hiding a louder snicker, and Trowa rolled his eyes, muttering, "When, exactly, did I save you?" To Quatre, too softly for Harry to hear.

"I'm not exactly a damsel in distress, Harry," Quatre hid a smile behind his hand and ignoring Trowa's remark. He chose to direct his question to Harry, wondering why Harry automatically assigned him the damsel in distress position. "What makes you think I didn't save Trowa?"

"Well, Trowa saved me, so he must have saved you, too," Harry nodded emphatically.

"It's really hard to argue with logic like that," Trowa snickered as Quatre glared at him. Harry agreed, and then continued to tell them about the rest of his classes and how cool they were.

"I got to meet Ali's dad and Lance's mom," Harry was winding down, trying to remember if there was anything else he'd forgotten. "Lance's mom was so cool! Her name is Mrs. Noventa, and she said she met one of the Gundam Pilots, once. She wouldn't say what his name was, though, but she said he was a very nice person. She said Lance's grandma wrote the boy a letter, too, and it was so cool!"

"Lance's surname is Noventa?" Quatre blinked in surprise. "Won't Hiiro be surprised."

"Duo's going to have kittens," Trowa snickered.

"Do you know her? She's very nice."

"No, we've never met. Did you meet Mr. Noventa?" Quatre quickly changed the subject.

"No. His dad's away for business. Lance said he'd got home Friday, and then they'd spend Saturday together. His dad's really cool, too. Lance said he's a politician. I didn't like Ali's dad, though."

"What's Ali's father like?"

"His name is Mr. Septum, and he's really mean. He grabbed Ali's arm and drugged him out," Harry scowled. "And Ali already has bruises, I saw them."

"Dragged, Harry, not drugged." Quatre corrected absently, frowning. "I want you to watch out for Ali, okay? If his dad hurts him again, will you tell me?"

"Yeah. I can." Harry frowned. "He was yelling, too. And Ali only had an apple and sandwich for lunch. But I thought parents were nice to their kids. I think Ali's treated like the Dursleys treated me. Because he didn't have lots of lunch, and he made it himself, and it didn't look very good. I shared my cookies with him, because I hadn't met Lance yet. But why would Ali's dad be mean to him? I thought parents were supposed to be nice to their kids. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were always very nice to Dudley."

"Some people are like that," Trowa sighed. "Just tell us if Ali keeps getting bruises, all right?"

Harry nodded, frowning out the window. Why would Ali's dad hurt Ali? Harry knew why the Dursleys had hurt him, he wasn't really their son, so it was okay for them to be mean to him, but why would anyone want to hurt Ali? He was very nice, and he'd shown Harry around and had eaten lunch with him and introduced him to Lance and everything! And Lance hadn't seemed bothered to see Mr. Septum grab Ali like that, so it must happen a lot. Harry crossed his arms. He didn't want Ali getting hurt. He was going to have to make sure he kept Ali safe from Mr. Septum if he could. Lance might not know that it wasn't okay for Mr. Septum to grab Ali like that, but Harry sure did!

Quatre exchanged looks with Trowa, sighing softly. "General Septum was not a nice man," Quatre murmured softly. "Why should his son be any different, I suppose?"

"That's no excuse to hurt a child, if that truly is the case." Trowa and Quatre both knew they had nothing but speculations, at least at the moment, and would do nothing unless Harry told them Ali had gotten more bruises since they needed proof before they could do anything. Trowa spared a moment to glance in the rearview mirror and watched a pensive Harry shift slightly and cross his arms.

"It doesn't matter what his excuse is. And it might not be abuse. We don't know what it was. Septum junior could have grabbed Ali and looked angry, but not really hurt him."

"Or he could have taken him home and given him a terrible beating." Trowa chewed his lip.

"We can't do anything about it yet," Quatre told his lover firmly. "We'll have to wait and see what Harry tells us. But if he's absent from school tomorrow, we're certainly going to have a look-see."

Trowa gave a sharp nod of agreement, and then gave a sigh. When had his life become so complicated, anyway?**  
oOooOo**


	10. Harry's Dream

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Ten  
Harry's Dream

**Disclaimer:** I don't own either series, no matter how much I wish I did. I only play with them for my own evil purposes. Mwahahaha!

**Warnings:** Slash, of course, and sap. This chapter has enough to give a body cavities.

**Author's Notes:** Tthis chapter is beta'd by Tempest Rose, thank you so much! She helps make my work legible!

_To Laesk:_ Thank you for pointing out the Hee-chan thing. In truth, I almost did write it Hii-chan, but I had a few reasons for not writing it that way. Hee-chan is more recognizeable to most readers (including me), and it is English phonetic. Many people, myself included, pronounce Hii-chan as "hi"-chan more readily, simply because of English phonetics. The major reason I chose Hee-chan was for easy recognition (not changing too many things at once). While I know the breakdown of Hiiro v. Heero, I didn't want to confuse people with them. I hope that explains why I chose not to use Hii-chan even through I am using the "ii" spelling for Hiiro.

_To Darkness  
and  
Everyone else waiting impatiently for updates:_ Sorry for the slow updates. I do my best, but real life hates me. Please be patient (though I don't object to occasional nudging) and I will continue to update as quickly as possible.

_To TCM:_ Just wait. I have Chibi Gundams involved. Seriously. There was some weird show about chibified Gundams that I thought they'd probably have something involved with in the future and, knowing small children and their obessions, have added it in. So if you think Wu Fei's reaction to the action figures will be bad, well. . . just wait. Heh heh heh. (And no, I'm not on crack. There really was a show like that that I saw once, then was subsequently scarred, and have added in.)

_To Redfox12:_ My beta keeps me in line with the grammar and spelling, though I do my best when I don't have a beta. It's nice to hear you appreciate the work we put into making things as nice as we can.

_To TheBetanWerecat:_ Um. . . I haven't thought much on the relation of the Septums. In fact, they all annoy the living shit out of me (excluding Ali, of course, but he's mine so he doesn't count). But Ali's father probably was a younger son somewhere along the line. Ugh, Septums procreating. Now I need to go find a steralizer for my brain. Lol. About the "Gundam Pilots" on Harry's phone, yes, that was entirely for my convienience. Sorry for the confusion.

_To tati1:_ A bento? Okay. _Hands tati a bento._ It's tasty, I think. Go enjoy!

_To Everyone Else:_ STOP ASKING ABOUT THE OTHER PILOTS!! Why? Because they have arrived! (Just so you know, this is my totally favorite chapter that I've written so far for this story.)

So, go do me a huge favor. . .  
enjoy chapter ten.  
**oOooOo**

When Harry showed up at school Wednesday, Ali was already there. Harry gave a sigh of relief, since Ali didn't look any worse for wear. He was more subdued than he had been the day before, but Harry didn't notice any new bruises. Ali even had money for milk that day. Breathing a sigh of relief that Ali's dad wasn't really hurting him, Harry settled back in his seat and turned excitedly to Ali. "Trowa's friends are coming in Saturday," He chattered excitedly, watching Ali smile and lean forward.

Harry gave a smile and a nod. Looked like Ali was okay after all.

Harry had a good first week of school, at least up until Friday. Then he was too excited to stay still for very long. Ali and Lance listened patiently while Harry told them all about Trowa's friends over and over again, and Miss Grace finally yelled at him for fidgeting so much he distracted the other students. Harry couldn't help it, though. He was really excited to meet Hiiro and Zechs and Duo and Wu Fei on Saturday that he just couldn't sit still!

When school ended, Trowa and Quatre patiently listened while the child chattered almost non-stop about the soon-to-arrive pilots and Trowa finally sent him outside to wear himself out in the snow and on the playground in the backyard. Quatre, desperate for a break from the child's excited prattle, buried himself in paperwork for about an hour before re-appearing and looking far less harried. "You want to watch a movie tonight, Harry?" The blond asked, hoping it would take Harry's mind off the next day.

"Can we watch the one Lance loaned me?" Harry's green eyes were bright. "The one about the Gundams?"

Trowa hid a choked laugh at that. Quatre shrugged but nodded, nearly falling over when he saw the movie. Some genius in the entertainment industry has "chibi-fied" the gundam mecha and made a cartoon out of it. It was all about preserving peace and helping others. To make matters worse. . . it was practically a musical. "Somehow," Quatre muttered to his lover while Harry's attention was on the television, "I have a feeling that Deathscythe would not be saying these things if he could really talk."

"They wouldn't be able to put the things Deathscythe would really say in a children's show," Trowa scolded jokingly, smiling at Harry's enjoyment. They ended up watching both that movie and another one, and by the end of them, Harry was fast asleep, sprawled over both Trowa's and Quatre's laps. Trowa gathered him up and carried him up the stairs, settling him into bed with a soft smile as the boy snuggled closer to Padfoot and gave a soft, little sigh.

"And you thought we'd never get him to sleep," Quatre teased, following Trowa to their bedroom.

"I did wonder," Trowa admitted. "He was awfully excited."

"Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be uncontrollable tomorrow," Quatre offered, smirking. "But we can just hand him over to the others, then."

Trowa nodded in agreement, and then turned to Quatre. "But that's tomorrow. Now, though, he is asleep and we have the house all to ourselves." Hands reached for the small blond and Quatre let Trowa pull him forward, bringing the taller down for a kiss while he purred an agreement low in his throat.

"And what do you plan to do about that, hm?" Quatre let Trowa push him back, guiding them to the bed and letting Trowa lay him gently on it.

"I have some ideas," Trowa nipped his lover's throat and let his hands drift to the buttons on Quatre's shirt. Quatre arched and gasped as talented fingers let him know exactly what Trowa had planned, and the blond groped for the switch to the bedside lamp. The two might have gone to bed early, but it was quite some time before they actually fell asleep.  
**oOooOo  
**  
Soft shaking woke Harry long before the sun had risen, and the boy grumbled incoherently as he turned over and snuggled back into the bed covers. "Harry, it's time to get up if you plan to go with Trowa and I to the spaceport." Quatre's soft voice wormed its way into his consciousness. "We need to go pick up the others, remember?"

Green eyes snapped awake as Harry almost leapt from the bed. "Quatre? Is it time to get up already?"

"Yes, green eyes. Time to get up so we can leave. We need to be at the London Spaceport in about two hours. It'll take us one and a half to get there. You need to get up and ready to go." Quatre smiled, smoothing the sleep-tousled hair.

Harry nearly fell over as he ran towards his bathroom, leaving Quatre to stiffle his laughter as he kicked out his sleep clothes and turn on the water. The blond shook his head, an affectionate smile quirking his lips, as he left to finish dressing and dig up some breakfast for the three of them. Trowa, who had just gotten out of the shower, raised an eyebrow as Quatre came back. "Did you get him up?" The teen asked, greeting his lover with a morning kiss.

"Of course. He's in the shower and will probably be down to breakfast in about five minutes." Quatre lapped at some of the water left on Trowa's skin before winking and turning to grab his socks so he could head down to make breakfast.

"You're such a tease," Trowa remarked, bending over the dresser and wiggling his hips, knowing Quatre was watching his every move.

"I didn't hear you complaining about it last night," Quatre reminded him, swiping his towel and snapping it across his bare buttocks. Trowa gave a yelp, but Quatre had already left the room, his laughter ringing down the hall. Trowa glowered at the door.

"You'd better watch it, Quatre!" He called, rubbing his rear. "You'll regret that!"

"It was payback!" Quatre's shout made Trowa's brows rise to nearly his hairline. "For last night!"

"Quatre!" A blush burned its way down Trowa's body. It was rare for Quatre to get Trowa to blush, but Trowa had a feeling Quatre would be able to do it more since there was a chance Harry would hear them.

Trowa sighed and shook his head, grabbing his clothes and grumbling about unfair blonds as he continued to rub his poor butt. Quatre was so going to get it for that one! Trowa would make sure of it.  
**oOooOo  
**  
Harry was still yawning sleepily when he appeared in the kitchen, stuffed dog clutched in his arms. Trowa smiled softly. He had never expected to have children, adopted or otherwise, but he couldn't say he regreted taking Harry from the Dursleys. "Good morning, green eyes," Trowa pressed a kiss to Harry's messy locks and the boy gave a sleepy smile. It was very early for Harry to be awake, not even five in the morning, but it was obvious he was excited to meet the rest of his "brothers."

"When are we leaving?" Harry rested arms on the countertop and snuggled his face into them, Padfoot acting as a pillow. "And when will they get here?"

"Not for a little while," Quatre answered, handing out bowls of oatmeal. Harry absently stirred the sugar Quatre had left on top into the hot cereal and gave an incoherent reply, almost falling back asleep in his breakfast. The two older boys shook their heads and finished their breakfast before shooing Harry back upstairs to brush his teeth before they left. Harry, still beyond excited despite his sleepiness, half tripped and half danced to the car.

The trip to the spaceport put Harry back to sleep, and Trowa ended up carrying him into the spaceport to meet the others piggy-back. Harry woke just after they arrived inside, however, and insisted on walking. He was much more awake so Trowa went ahead and put him down. Harry trotted beside the two pilots, face shining.

"You're excited, aren't you?" Quatre asked, chuckled softly.

"You talk about them all the time," Harry explained. His brow furrowed for a moment. "But what if they don't like me? Will you send me back?"

"Not ever. Besides, they've heard all about you, too, and I know they'll like you." Trowa smiled gently at his charge. "I promise."

Harry chewed his lip, looking unsure, but nodded in acceptance. Trowa and Quatre both found themselves amused by Harry's awe of the spaceport, and continued to head towards the proper gate. Harry glanced at them for a moment, and then returned to gawking at the passing people, who were speaking numerous languages and dressed in the clothing of various cultures. Turning to see where Trowa and Quatre were, Harry felt his heart sink.

They were gone.

Green eyes widened in panic, and Harry felt his lips tremble. Had they left him there? Did they lie about going to the spaceport to pick up Hiiro and Duo and Zechs and Wu Fei so they could leave him there?

People continued to brush past him as Harry stared around, green eyes filling with tears. Maybe Trowa really didn't want him. "Trowa!" Harry cried, looking around. "Trowa, don't leave me!"

Adults paused for only the barest of moments, giving the boy strange looks as they hurried around him, trying to make their own flights and not wanting to give the boy a second glance. "Trowa! Please come back! I'll be good!" Harry raced down the terminal, half-blinded by his tears. He had to find Trowa before the others arrived and he left! If Trowa left, Harry didn't know how he'd get home, and he didn't even remember where his new house was. And he knew the Dursleys wouldn't take him back, and since he still had living family he wasn't allowed to go to the orphanage. . .

"TROWA!" Harry wasn't sure when he tripped and fell, but his knees and hands stung as he pushed himself back to his feet. "TROWA, COME BACK!"

Harry felt his panic rise as he continued to run through the terminal, occasionally calling for his cousin. He couldn't find Trowa anywhere! It was like Trowa was just gone, and none of the people he found had his eyes. "Trowa!" The child's panicked screams had degenerated into panicked sniffles. He didn't stop looking for Trowa, but by then he was completely lost. He had no idea where he was, or even if he was in the right terminal. It felt like he'd been walking for hours and hours, and surely Trowa would have found him by then. . .

If Trowa was even looking for him.

Harry doggedly kept looking for almost thirty more minutes, tears trickling down his cheeks as he desprately tried to find Trowa and Quatre. Turning a corner sharply, the child slammed into someone and nearly fell. "Trowa?" Harry grabbed the person's jacket, his voice as wobbly as his legs.

The moment Harry grabbed the person's jacket, he knew it wasn't Trowa. Trowa didn't have a jacket made from blue jeans, and he never wore such light denim pants. He also didn't own a pair of ugly yellow work boots--at least, not that Harry had ever seen. Harry finally let his knees give out, heart-wrenching sobs pouring from his thin body. Trowa really had left him! "Please come back, Trowa," Harry whimpered, feeling powerful arms wrap around him. "I'll be good."

Despite the power Harry had felt in the arms holding him, the person was gentle as rocked Harry and hold him like Trowa did. Sort of awkward, but still comforting. Harry wrapped his arms around whoever was holding him and clung tightly. "What's the matter, otouto-chan?" The voice was rough and slightly nasal, but still gentle. "Are you hurt?"

"I c-c-can't find T-Trowa," Harry sobbed, his thin arms wrapped tightly around the man's shoulders. "I think he left me here!"

"Trowa?" The voice was surprised. "Trowa Barton?"

Harry sniffled and nodded, wiping at his eyes. Someone handed him a soft handkerchief, and Harry managed to dry his face, though it left the hanky sopping wet. "He's my cousin," Harry explained brokenly, looking at the person holding him. He was very familiar looking, with chocolate colored locks even messier than Harry's and deep, prussian blue eyes. Harry eyed him for a moment longer, not certain where he'd seen the man before, then gave another, pathetic sniffle.

"You must be Harry, then," The man holding him rubbed his back comfortingly. "Trowa's cousin, right?"

"Y-you know Trowa?" Harry scrubbed at his face with the handkerchief again.

"We're his friends, actually." A new voice made Harry twist in the first man's arms, staring at another male. The second man was taller than Trowa by a few inches, with long, white blond hair pulled back into a low tail and choppy bangs framing his face. Ice-blue eyes flicked over Harry's small frame, a smile gentling his aristocratic features. "I'm Zechs Merquise."

Harry blinked, and then glanced at the first man again, suddenly remembering some of the pictures around the house. That was why the man holding him looked familiar. "Are you Hiiro Yui?"

"I am." Hiiro nodded. "You're quite intelligent, to have figured that out."

"Trowa showed me pictures," Harry explained, wrapping his thin arms around Hiiro's neck and resting his head on the teen's shoulder. "Do you know where he is?"

"Probably looking for you. When did you get separated?" Hiiro carefully set Harry down, taking his hand and starting down the terminal.

"We were headed to the gate to meet you and I was looking around, and then Trowa wasn't there! I didn't mean to be trouble! Is he--is he going to leave me here?" The look on Harry's face was utterly heartbreaking, his lips trembling, brows slightly furrowed as he fought not to cry.

"Trowa would never leave you," Zechs took the boy's other hand, offering a buffer between Harry and reality. Harry was grateful for it, clutching at their hands as though they were lifelines, and desperately not looking at the people around him. Hiiro and Zechs both looked concerned about the boy, but continued down the terminal.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, hesitantly, eyes flicking towards Hiiro, and then looking away. Like he was nervous about asking a question. Hiiro's brow furrowed.

"We're headed to the baggage claim," Zechs explained, forcing his face to remain neutral. "Duo and Wu Fei are waiting for us there. Hiiro and I were at the gate to wait for Trowa and Quatre, but they're probably looking for you. We'll page them to meet us at the baggage claim, okay?"

Harry nodded, still staring at the ground and wondering if Trowa was going to be very angry with him. Harry had run away, after all, even if it was just an accident. Zechs continued to lead him to one of the conveyer belts while Hiiro turned to go to the information booth to page the two wayward pilots. Harry wondered why they didn't just called Trowa, but decided it was safer not to ask.

"So, who's love-child is that, Zechs?" Even the good-natured teasing made Harry wince, especially since the owner of the voice was nearly Trowa's height and was probably very strong. Suddenly Harry found the man kneeling in front of him, violet eyes concerned. A long, chestnut brown braid lightly brushed the floor as he knelt. "What's the matter, kiddo?"

"Trowa's going to be mad at me," Harry whispered, refusing to meet the man's eyes. "I ran away by accident."

"He's not going to be mad if it was just an accident," The man smiled. "I'm Duo Maxwell. I run and hide, but I never tell a lie!"

"You're one of Trowa's friends, too?" Harry was far more subdued than Duo liked. The child was nine. There was no reason for him to think he was headed to see an executioner.

"Sure am. I think Trowa calls me the annoying one," Duo teased gently, tweaking Harry's nose. "And you must be Harry. I can see why Trowa calls you green eyes."

Harry blushed, staring at the ground and not sure what to say. He didn't want to get in trouble by talking too much, or asking too many questions, but he had lots of things he wanted to know about Trowa's friends. He glanced up in time to see a Chinese teen a little shorter than Duo walk up carrying a few bags. Jet black hair was pulled back in a tight tail that fell a hand-span down his back, and eyes of the same shade regarded Harry a little curiously. "This is green eyes, Fei," Duo explained, grinning. "That's why Trowa's not here, yet. They got separated in the crowds."

Harry blinked up at Duo, startled. Duo didn't think he was bad?

"Ah, I see." Wu Fei's smile was soft and slight, but warm all the same. "It's nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Wu Fei Chang."

Harry blushed again, stepping a little closer to Duo. "H-hello." He managed, and remembered to bow like Trowa showed him. Wu Fei's smile grew as he bowed in reply, and then bent to hug Harry gently. Harry, unused to hugs, stiffened for a moment before remembering to hug Wu Fei in return. The look on the Gundam pilots' faces were pained as the child had to remember not to flinch at the touch and to return it. Duo clentched his teeth. He and the Dursleys would be having a very long "talk" when they met face to face.

Duo would just have to remember he wasn't allowed to kill them.

Harry continued to stand there, staring at the ground and clinging to Hiiro's hand as though they would leave him if he let go. "Harry!" Trowa's voice finally prompted him to turn and see the teen racing towards him.

"I'm sorry, Trowa," Harry whispered, dropping Hiiro's hand to clasp his hands to his chest. "I didn't mean to run away. Really I didn't. Please don't leave me here."

"Oh, Harry," Trowa had dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around Harry before the child knew what was happening. "I was so worried about you! I'm glad you're safe."

"You didn't want to leave me here?" Harry wrapped his arms around Trowa's neck. "You didn't want me to go away?"

"Never, Harry, I promise. We just got lost from each other. I wouldn't have left until I'd found you." Trowa finally stood up, letting Quatre get to Harry.

Quatre wrapped Harry into a warm hug, pressing a cheek to the boy's hair. "I was worried someone had stolen you," He breathed, moving away to look Harry over for injuries. "You aren't hurt?"

"I think I fell once, but I'm okay," Harry reached out for Quatre again, desperately wanting comforting but not knowing how to ask. Quatre didn't say anything, just wrapped Harry back up in his arms and stood there with the boy for some time, just hugging him and giving them both some time to calm down. By the time they'd pulled apart, Wu Fei had gathered the rest of their bags.

"I think it's lunch time," Wu Fei informed his friends and smiled to Harry. "Is there anywhere in particular we should go eat?"

"Uncle Vernon always talked about a place near here," Harry offered softly. "He said it had good food, but I've never been. I wasn't allowed."

"You weren't allowed?"

"No animals," Harry cracked, but his smile was sad. "I didn't want to go anyway. They might have left me, and I don't want to be alone."

"I'm afraid you're stuck with us for awhile, green eyes," Duo pointed out, smirking. "We'll have to live together for at least a year."

"You don't mind living with me?" Harry twisted his hands. "I know you want to live with Trowa, but. . . do you mind that I'm there too?"

"No way, kid," Duo snorted. "You seem like a good kid. I bet we'll all get along very well. You like the sound of that?"

Harry's smile was brilliant as he nodded and threw himself at Duo, locking his arms around the pilot's waist. Duo laughed merrily, lifting Harry and giving him a light toss before letting the boy clamber onto his back and skipping merrily from the baggage claim. Trowa rolled his eyes and smiled, following after them.

Hiiro gave a contemplative frown. "I think Harry isn't the only child you adopted, Winner," He muttered, snorting.

"He's your lover," Quatre reminded Hiiro, smirking. "Pedophile."

"Shut up, blondie," Hiiro grunted in reply, before Quatre started to laugh and Hiiro gave a small smirk.

"You're both falling behind," Zechs called back, raising an eyebrow. "Now come on. Or else we'll have to deal with both children at the car with no supervision."

"Harry has it covered," Quatre answered, throwing an arm around Hiiro's shoulders and giving a soft sigh. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed his friends and comrades until he was near them again.

Duo and Harry both made it to the car in record time, Duo towing Harry along easily, but always going slow enough to make sure the boy wouldn't trip. "That was fun!" Harry giggled, throwing his arms around Duo and smiling up at him.

"I have to agree," Duo smirked, turning to lean against the car and watch the rest of the pilots walking across the garage. "I wonder what's taking them so long."

"They're slowpokes," Harry giggled, the stopped, looking stricken. "I--I didn't mean--"

"Naw, you're right," Duo gave Harry a wink. "C'MON, SLOWPOKES!" He screamed to the others, grinning like a lunatic. Harry stiffened, eyes growing wide.

"Don't!" Harry pleaded, tugging on Duo's pants. "Trowa will be mad at me and I don't want him to take me back. Please don't." The child looked ready to cry, frightened and trembling.

"They aren't going to get mad, Harry." Duo knelt and put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "I promise you that, and I never lie."

"But if Trowa gets mad, he'll send me back to the Dursleys," Harry shook his head. "And I never want to go back there."

"Listen to me, Harry," Duo forced Harry to look at him. "Trowa is never going to take you back to the Dursleys. I won't say he'll never be mad with you, because being mad at people is human, but I can promise that he will never hurt you on purpose, and I can promise that he will never take you back to the Dursleys by choice."

"You really think so?" Harry chewed his lip. "But if I'm bad. . ."

"It doesn't matter to him. It doesn't matter to the rest of us either. We all do things we regret--that make us feel bad. Sometimes things don't turn out the way we expect. But that doesn't mean we won't want to keep you. Because, no matter what you do, Trowa will always want you, and so will the rest of us."

Harry nodded after a few moments, making Duo smile and hug him tightly. The elder boy felt Harry relax into the hug, and the boy hugged him back hesitently before letting go and waving across the garage to Trowa, who grinned and ran to the car, catching Harry around the waist and tickling him silly. "Call us slowpokes, will you?" He grinned as Harry squirmed and laughed. Hiiro and Quatre traded looked before glancing furitively at Wu Fei, who nodded. The trio charged Duo, catching him tightly while Zechs, who'd caught on immediately, started tickling Deathscythe's pilot.

Duo shrieked with laughter, squirming like an eel. The three pilots managed to hold onto him enough to let Zechs tickle him senseless and soon both Duo and Harry were limp and panting from laughter. Trowa smirked, loading the child into the SUV they'd driven so they'd all fit, and let Wu Fei and Zechs sandwich the boy while Duo and Hiiro sat in the middle seats to leave Trowa to drive and Quatre to navigate. Harry squirmed a little in protest to not being able to see out the window while they headed toward a restaurant that Quatre suggested.

When they arrived, all of them but Harry tumbled out of the SUV. "Harry?" Zechs stuck his head back inside. The child flinched, shoulders tensing. "Are you coming?"

"Am I allowed?" Harry eyed him warily.

Trowa put a hand on Zechs' back, drawing him out of the way so he could speak to his cousin. "Why wouldn't you be?"

"Because I called you slowpokes and was bad," Harry refused to meet Trowa's eyes.

"You were teasing us, Harry. Like we sometimes tease you. Are we bad when we do that?"

Harry shook his head. "It's funny."

"Exactly. You aren't in trouble. Are you hungry?"

Harry gave a brilliant smile and nodded, tripping over his own feet in his hurry to leave the car incase Trowa changed his mind, but Trowa caught him and lifted him out, setting him on the ground. Harry hurried to Duo and grabbed his hand, tugging on it. "Trowa wasn't mad," He whispered to the pilot, smiling. "He didn't mind we were teasing."

"Good," Duo smiled as Harry took his hand and started swinging them idly. Harry giggled and skipped along with Duo to the restaurant.

"It's good he's having fun," Quatre put a hand on Trowa's arm. "Let him learn it's okay to act his age, for now, and we can deal with the backlash later."

"I don't want to confuse him with the rules." Trowa frowned slightly.

"He's not out of line at all," Wu Fei pointed out. "And since Duo is being an example, he feels it is okay to follow. I would not worry about him calming down inside the restaurant. He's very well behaved; he just needs to learn that it is all right for him to play, too."

Trowa nodded. Wu Fei and Quatre had the most normal childhoods of all of them, and Wu Fei had not been kept nearly as isolated as Quatre. He had also been allowed to act like a child, unlike Quatre who had been forced to act like a miniature adult most of the time. If Wu Fei wasn't concerned about Harry's behavior, then Trowa vowed not to be as well. "Do you think he'll act like this all the time?"

"You're too serious, Trowa," Zechs grinned. His childhood had been less-than-normal, but he had also been allowed to act his age most of the time. "Harry needs to be less serious. He's nine, not nineteen. Don't worry about him doing silly things like this. It's okay while he's young, and it's good for him."

"You're sure?" Trowa had never been a parent, and had no real role-model to work off of. He had no idea how Harry was supposed to act.

"Trust me, all right?" Zechs smiled. "I haven't led you wrong before, have I?"

"Well, there was that one time you tried to destroy the world. . ." Wu Fei mused, smirking slightly.

Zechs threw up his hands. "Try to annihilate the world once and no one ever lets it go. . . just once! I didn't even do it multiple times!"

Wu Fei snickered and pressed a kiss to his lover's lips. Harry turned in time to see it, and rolled his eyes. "Stop playing kissy-face and come on!" He called, smiling brightly.

Duo smirked. "I so have a new minion." He sounded smug, and Hiiro smacked him upside the head lightly, making him huff in annoyance.

"You're not allowed to turn my cousin into a minion," Trowa hissed to Duo. The teen drooped a little, pouting.

"Please?"

"No."

"Come on!" Harry grabbed Trowa's hand and tugged lightly, the first time he'd ever acted impatient around Trowa before. Trowa grinned. Maybe the other pilots would be good for Harry after all. He had been worried about what their family would be like once they were all together, but it seemed as though it was all going to be all right. Turning away from Duo, Trowa let himself be pulled into the restaurant.**  
oOooOo**


	11. Role Models

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Eleven  
Role Models

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Gundam Wing.

**Warnings:** Shounen Ai, sap, cute Harry--oh, that's normal. Nevermind.

**Pairings:** 1x2, 3x4, 5x6

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the long wait, everyone! Work just about killed me. I'm also planning a move in a little while, so my life is, well, insane. And then some. I'll try to update more often and more regularily, but I make no promises. This chapter has been beta'd (Thank to Tempest Rose. Thank you muchly!).

This chapter is dedicated to Reader in the Corner for pointing out a rather terrible lapse of my (admittdly short) attention.

_To Reader in the Corner:_ Thank you for pointing out that flub in the last chapter. I can't believe I hadn't noticed it! I could have kicked myself. But it's fixed now and I give you a special shout-out!

_To oOMomoOo:_ Sorry for the wait. Real life sucks. One of these days I'll just be a professional liar--I mean, writer. Lol.

_To Dark Goddess of Fiery Tempers:_ Not sure if I made the deadline (doubtful, and I'm sorry), but I hope this gives you an outlet. I'm glad yout hink this is really good. It makes me happy. _Preens_.

_To Summercloud:_ I wrote this with the idea in mind that some people wouldn't have any idea what Gundam Wing was when they read it (and some truely don't), much of the exposition is necessary. As for Harry's age, I know a lot of nine-year-olds that want cuddled and held. Some are boys, too. I was surprised, but kids of all ages like snuggled. And since Harry was abused, he will be a bit of a paradox. He had to grow up in some ways, but had his growth stunted in others.

_To Lunan:_ I am truely honored. _bows_.

_To Everyone:_ It seems like most everyone likes the story. I'm glad for that! I know several people have pointed out that Harry seems to act young for his age, but he was emotionally stunted by the abuse, and nine-year-olds are still pretty cuddly. I deal with them on a semi-regular basis. They liked picked up and swing around and played with, and they like cuddled and read to. I swear I'm not making it up. I was shocked to discover that because I don't remember being that way, though I supposed I probably was. In any case, I promise to try and update more often, and I'm sorry I dropped off the face of the planet for two months or so.

But I do ask for a last favor. . .  
Enjoy chapter eleven!**  
oOooOo**

Harry was quiet for lunch and the trip home, listening to the pilots babble about what they'd been doing over the past few weeks. He was still unsure of his place, with all these people. Trowa had been kind to him, and Quatre had been the same, but what if the rest of these people didn't like him? What if Trowa decided he just wanted to live with his friends and not Harry?

The boy nibbled his thumb, staring at the back of his cousin's seat nervously. What would he do if Trowa decided not to keep him? Where would he go? Would Trowa bother taking him somewhere or would he just end up on the side of the road like he'd seen puppies and kittens sometimes?

"Oi, green eyes!" Duo's voice made him start, and he stared at the violet-eyed pilot somewhat uncertainly.

"Y-yeah?"

"You look like you got some serious thinking going on in there," The braided teen tapped Harry's forehead gently. After lunch, Duo and Hiiro had climbed into the back and given Wu Fei and Zechs the middle seats. "Everything all right?"

Harry flinched. He still wasn't used to people like Duo, who had a tendency to be loud and brash. Duo gave him a gentle smile. "I'm fine," Harry whispered, not looking the teen in the eyes.

"If you say so, kid," Duo grinned over Harry's head to his lover. "Hey, Hee-chan. You and Harry are alike, why don't you see if you can pry it out of him?"

"There is no reason to." Hiiro's voice was oddly flat, and Harry looked at the Japanese youth sharply, surprised. "When he wishes for you to know, he will tell you. Right, Harry?"

Harry nodded, still looking at Hiiro, head tilted slightly. "Why did you help me in the spaceport?"

Prussian blue eyes blinked. "What do you mean?"

"No one else stopped to look at me, or help me, or anything. But why did you?" Harry wondered if Hiiro would hit him for asking a question, like the Dursleys used to.

Hiiro dropped a heavy hand on Harry's head, ignoring the tension as Harry waited for pain. "Why would I not?" Hiiro's voice was gentle. "You deserve someone to help you as much as anyone else does. So I gave what I could."

Hiiro's hand was warm and gentle, comforting. Harry sighed softly as it slid down his face, Hiiro's thumb brushing gently over his cheek. "We're always going to be there for you, Harry. Trust us on that, all right?"

Harry eyed him for a moment, then, finally, nodded. Maybe he wouldn't be sent back after all. Giving a contented smile, he leaned against Hiiro and rode the rest of the way in silence.  
**oOooOo  
**  
When they got home, Harry followed the pilots into the house and up the stairs, flitting from room to room to watch them put away their things. Wu Fei finally gave a soft sigh and plopped Harry on the bed. "You clearly have a lot of questions in that head of yours," Wu Fei teased gently. "Why don't you share them with me?"

"I'm not allowed." Harry watched him move around the room, placing things on the shelves. Once their suitcases were empty, the two sat next to Harry to look around. Wu Fei stopped for a moment, doing a double take once his eyes fell on the small shrine in the corner with the heavy, dragon statue sitting in the place of honor.

Dark eyes roved the statue, and Wu Fei did a double take. "Oh. . . Quatre, you didn't." Wu Fei breathed, moving to kneel in front of the shrine. Hesitant, trembling hands caressed the statue. "How did you find it?"

"Mr. Wu Fei?" Harry sat next to the man, looking concerned. "Are you okay?"

"It was a surprise to see this dragon here," Wu Fei explained. "My clan sold it at the beginning of the war to fund. . . well. . . never mind. They sold it at the beginning of the war. I never thought I would see it again. It is one of the few things I have of my clan."

Harry nodded, not understanding. "You're thinking of questions again," Wu Fei tapped the child's nose. "You may always share them with me."

Harry thought for a moment. "You said it was one of the few things you had of your clan?"

"My clan. . . died two years ago, to avoid problems with the government then. They destructed the colony they lived on."

"They killed themselves?" Harry gasped.

"It is an honorable death, in my culture," Wu Fei explained, wrapping an arm around the horrified child's waist. "Something like that saying, 'Death before dishonor' in English."

Harry wasn't sure what to think of that, but he nodded anyway and let Wu Fei continue to hold him. It seemed to make the teen feel better, and Harry liked it when people hugged him and held him. Like they actually wanted him. "So. . . what was so surprising about finding the statue?"

"Quatre must have bought it. But it's worth a lot of money. I'm not sure where he found it, actually."

"Quatre knows lots of people," Harry told the Chinese teen with all the conviction a nine year old could muster. "He must have gotten it from one of them."

"I will have to ask." Wu Fei smiled. "Come. That's enough reminiscing for one day, I think. Come on, let's head on downstairs. Duo and Hiiro are likely to be done. Knowing Duo, he'll be driving everyone else crazy while they wait on us."

"Okay!" Harry stood, heading toward the door where Zechs was kneeling. "What are you doing?"

"You want to ride pig-a-back?" Zechs asked. Harry's eyes lit up.

"Yeah!" Vernon used to carry Dudley like that, and Trowa had done it once or twice, but Harry wasn't used to people actually wanting to carry him. Vernon always got upset when Harry asked, because no one wanted to touch Harry and the child didn't deserve to be carried anywhere. He was supposed to walk and pretend he wasn't part of the family.

Zechs settled Harry carefully and skipped part of the way down the hall, leaving Harry cheering in delight. Thin arms wrapped around Zechs' neck, and Harry snuggled his cheek against the man's back. "Thank you, Mr. Zechs."

"Just Zechs, remember green eyes?" Zechs' voice was affectionate and warm. Something Harry wasn't at all used to. Harry nodded and smiled, resting his head against Zechs' back again. Wu Fei smiled at the content look on the child's face. Zechs bounded cheerfully down the stairs, and Harry lifted his head to laugh more, and then spit a little as he nearly ate Zechs' hair.

"What took you so long?" Duo demanded, grabbing Harry off Zechs' back and swinging him around. Harry squealed and flailed when Duo tossed him, clinging like a limpet when he was caught gently.

"Don't drop me, Mr. Duo! I didn't mean to make you mad," Harry whimpered, and grabbed Duo's shirt. Harry knew he'd likely be punished, but he couldn't help it. Vernon had tossed him once, like he often tossed Dudley, but he hadn't bothered to catch him. Just let him fall to the ground. It had really hurt, too, because Harry had really thought his Uncle would catch him.

"It's all right, I was just playing." Duo hugged him, pressing a kiss to the child's temple. "I'm not at all angry, and I'm never ever going to drop you."

"You won't let me get hurt?"

"Not if I can help it," Duo murmured, soothing Harry before putting him down. "All right?"

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye!" Duo winked.

"Ew!" Harry made a disgusted face. "That's so nasty!"

Duo tossed his head slightly, grinning. "Whatever."

"So what are we doing now?" Harry turned to his cousin. "Are we going to play? Can we go outside?"

"Not yet. Trowa and I want to catch up with the others, and we have something more to tell you. We were waiting until we were all together, but now that we are, you need to hear it." Quatre caught Harry's hand and led him to the den. "Then we can play."

"Okay," Harry agreed, reaching for Trowa's hand to. He looked startled when his hand closed around one that couldn't have been Trowa's, even though it was where Trowa had last been standing. The hand was too small to be Trowa's, and the calluses were in the wrong places. Harry paled, turning to see who he'd accidentally grabbed. Level blue eyes met him, and Harry shrank away from Hiiro, starting to release his hand. "I--I'm sorry."

Hiiro's hand tightened around his, and the man smiled at him. "You're fine."

"You're not mad?" It made Hiiro angry, the way Harry was so unsure about everything he did. As though no one could possible want his touch, or want him to be around. The way he automatically assumed that people wouldn't have him to be part of things.

"I am not mad, no," Hiiro murmured, wrapping an arm around the child and lifting him easily. "Why would I be?"

"Aunt Petunia didn't like it when I held her hand. She thought people might think we knew each other."

"I want people to know we know each other," Hiiro told him, smiling when Harry threw his arms around his new "brother" in a giant hug. Hiiro smiled, laughing a little, and Duo glanced at Harry with a thoughtful look on his face. It seemed as though having Harry around would benefit them all, not just Harry. The child's innocence helped make everything they'd done seem worth the price they'd paid for it.

"What were you going to tell me?" Harry curled up next to Trowa, head in his cousin's lap. "Are you sending me back because I'm bad?"

"Oh Harry, no," Trowa rubbed Harry's back. "Never ever. This actually has to do with me. Well, my friends and me. Do you remember when you were telling us about the mobile suits Lance was bringing to school?"

"The Gundams?" Harry nodded. "They were really, really cool! We pretended to be the pilots of them, because the pilots have to be totally awesome!"

"Good. You remember their names?"

"Yeah. Ali's favorite is Sandrock, and I like to play with Heavyarms and Wing, and Lance likes the Altron one, and Ali plays with Deathscythe lots, too, because Lance always wants to be Tallgeese." Harry grinned. "We we get to pretend we have lots of explosions and beat up the bad guys!"

"Good. Have you ever thought about who pilots the Gundams?"

"Kind of. They'd have to be really cool and Lance said the pilots are awesome because no one could beat them!"

"I don't know about that," Zechs muttered, but Wu Fei nudged him, making him fall silent.

"So, what does me playing with toys have to do with anything?" Harry glanced at Trowa.

"You're quite smart," Trowa praised. "You see, it's important because I'm going to tell you a secret that you can't tell anyone else unless we say it's okay. Not even Lance and Ali. Do you understand?"

"I won't tell! I'm good at not telling," Harry put his elbows on Trowa's lap to lean upwards. "So tell! Please?"

Trowa leaned close to whisper to Harry. "We're the Gundam Pilots."

Green eyes grew wide. "Really?"

Trowa nodded, smiling and pointed to each pilot in turn, giving Harry their numbers and which Gundam they piloted. Harry took it all in with wide eyes. "Wow," he breathed, twisting to stare at each of them in turn. "Lance says you're the best pilots ever. And Lance knows all about you. He said his mom even met one of you, once."

"What's Lance's name, then?" Duo wondered.

"Oh, it's Lancelot Noventa, but we never call him that." Harry grinned. "Mrs. Noventa is really nice, too. She said the Gundam pilot she met was very nice and that he's a hero."

Duo snickered into one hand. "He's a Hiiro, all right."

Harry gave him a blank look.

"She met Hiiro," Duo explained. "A long time ago. Hiiro made a mistake and was apologizing for it the only way he knew how." There was no reason to tell Harry Hiiro had told the woman to shoot him. He didn't need to to know that.

"Oh, so he's a hero because he's Hiiro!" Harry giggled. "You're funny, Mr. Duo."

"First time he's heard that, I bet," Wu Fei snickered.

"Hey!" Duo crossed his arms. "I'll have you know I'm quite funny!"

"In the head," Quatre joined in, winking at Harry who giggled harder.

"What's Ali's name, then?" Zechs found himself asking.

"Ali? Oh, he's Alistar Septum."

If Hiiro had been drinking anything, he would have done a spit-take. As it was, he did manage to choke on his own saliva and ended up half coughing up a lung. "What?" He squeaked out.

"Alistar Septum," Harry repeated patiently. "He's really nice, but I don't think Mr. Septum is. He grabbed Ali really hard last week, but he was at school the next day, so he must have been all right."

"Septum had spawn?" Duo coughed. "Oh, man. . ."

"Ali's really nice," Harry protested.

"Oh, I'm sure he is. It's just, we knew his grandfather during the war and. . . we didn't get on very well," Duo shrugged. "He was kind of. . ."

"Annoying." Zechs filled in. "But if you say Ali is nice, I'm sure we'll like him."

Harry nodded emphatically and squirmed a little. His new family was so much fun!  
**oOooOo  
**  
After a little more time chatting, Harry decided he was bored and asked to go outside. Trowa nodded his agreement, and Harry quickly pulled on his coat and gloves, rushing outside. Quatre grabbed him before he got out the door and forced his hat on, then smiled and waved him away. Harry grinned and rushed to the playground in the backyard, going wild for a while before he plopped on the swing.

He was. . . lonely.

Not like when he was lonely at the Dursleys, because he knew he had a family that loved him and friends at school, but he was outside, all by himself, and he was lonely. Dejectedly, Harry pumped his legs a little at the swing. He had gotten used to having playmates, and now he wanted one. He should want anything; because he didn't deserve anything, but people had been giving him their time like it was nothing. Like he deserved it.

And now he wanted it and he wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't used to feeling like this.

Hands suddenly wrapped around the swing chain, and Harry tensed. "Penny for your thoughts?" Duo asked, leaning against the chains to set the swing in motion. Harry leaned into the movement, shrugging a little bit. "I know there's something in there, green eyes," Duo told him softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair.

"How?"

"Trowa might be able to hide his thoughts, but yours show up in your eyes, kiddo." Duo smiled at him. Harry knew because he'd stretched his head back to see it. "So, what are you thinking about?"

"I'm lonely," Harry whispered, chewing his lip. Maybe Duo wouldn't mind Harry confiding in him? "Trowa's kept me, but I'm lonely." Harry struggled to give explanations to feelings he didn't understand and thoughts he didn't have words to describe.

"Are you lonely because you think no one wants you, or because you're out here by yourself?" Duo slid down the chain to hug the child. He knew Harry had started at the question, and smiled gently.

"Because I was out here alone."

"You want someone to play with," Duo chuckled. "That's all right. You want me to push you on the swing?"

"I don't know. I shouldn't want that," Harry's brows furrowed. "Because. . . because it'll go away and then it'll hurt, and I don't want to be lonely after you leave."

"It?"

"This. Trowa. And then it'll hurt."

"Trowa isn't going to go anywhere. Not if he has any say in the matter," Duo moved to face Harry, squatting so they were at eye-level. "And the rest of us aren't going anywhere either. So you don't have to worry about being lonely. We'll be here for you."

"But what if you decide you don't want to?"

"We won't decide that. And we'll do whatever it takes to prove it." Duo's eyes were level and serious. "Understand? You could set the house on fire and we'd still keep you. Not that I recommend that, but you get the idea."

Harry averted his eyes and nodded. Duo could tell the child still didn't believe him, but he also knew better than to push the issue. Harry would simply have to learn for himself. "Now," Duo's tone turned light. "How about that push?"

That earned a smile from Harry, though it was small. "All right."

Duo rose and pushed easily at the swing, giving in to Harry's demands to be pushed higher and higher. It was sad that Harry wouldn't believe that he was wanted there, and that all of them wanted him, not just Trowa--and Quatre, by proxy--but he was willing to wait it out. Willing to do for Harry what no one but the other pilots had ever done from him. As long as it would take for Harry to realize he was welcome there. That he was part of their family. Duo would wait.  
**oOooOo  
**  
When Harry and Duo tromped inside, Quatre sent them up for warm, dry clothes and had hot chocolate waiting when they re-appeared. Harry grinned at Quatre, taking the mug, then heading into the kitchen where Hiiro was cooking. Harry watched him move easily around the kitchen, handling knives as though he'd been doing it his entire life. Which, knowing Hiiro, he probably had.

Hiiro turned to see big, green eyes on him and hid a small smile, deciding to put on a little show for his curious little guest. Harry gasped, first in startled fear, then in delight as the knives became silver blurs in Hiiro's hands while they flipped and slid and danced while Hiiro worked. "Oh," He breathed, grinning when Hiiro winked at him.

"Would you like to help?"

"I would ruin it," Harry whispered.

"Nonsense. I will teach you." Hiiro's firm tone made Harry wonder if he could taught. Hiiro sounded as though he could, but Harry wasn't sure if he really believed him "Come on."

Harry jumped off his stool and timidly approached Hiiro. "What do I do?"

"For now?" Hiiro smiled. "Just chop the carrots. "I'll teach the fancy stuff when you've got the basics down, okay?"

"You think I can learn it?"

"Of course."

Harry nodded and went to chopping carrots under Hiiro's mindful eye. He loved to cook, and Trowa had said Hiiro did too, so maybe Hiiro would know. "The Dursleys didn't think so."

"The Dursleys are pigs." Hiiro didn't look up from his work, but Harry knew the intense teenager was paying attention. "I wouldn't hold their opinion for anything. It's worthless."

"But. . . everyone else seemed to think I was bad, too."

"Then they are also idiots." Hiiro snorted and tossed the onions into the pan, followed by the carrots Harry had cut. "You did a very good job. Very even and thinly sliced. I like that."

A low whistle made Harry tense. "It takes a lot to get a compliment from him," Zechs grinned. "You must have cut them perfectly! Good job."

"He is very good at it," Hiiro agreed. "Now get out of my kitchen. I remember the last time I let you dice anything."

"Yeah, you nearly lost a finger," Duo chuckled, snagging the back of Zechs' jacket. "Now give Hee-chan and green eyes a little bonding time. Oh, Hiiro, Q-bean says that if you let Harry use a knife, he'd better be supervised. He also says that if Harry loses any fingers he'll feed you to Cathy's lions." Duo gave a cheerful wave and left, Zechs in tow.

Hiiro and Harry blinked. "Who's Cathy?"

"Trowa's adopted sister." Hiiro returned to the vegetables. Harry nodded, remembering Trowa mentioning her several times, and grinned up at Hiiro.

"Does this mean I can learn a knife trick?"

"Not with real ones. I'll have some fake ones made for you, first," Hiiro ruffled his hair. "But you can help me more." Hiiro held up a bag of rice, and Harry eagerly went to help.

Hiiro was delighted to find Harry a good, competent helper in the kitchen, and Harry was delighted to be in there. "I love to cook," He told Hiiro. "Aunt Petunia always said she made the meals, so people told her they were good, but I knew I made them, so they were really complementing me. It made me happy."

"I'm glad for that," Hiiro stirred the stir-fry a little and started handing Harry plates and glasses, forgetting for a moment he was working with a mal-nourished nine-year old child and handed him one too many plates. The heavy stack slipped from Harry's small hands, crashing to the hard floor. The bottom three plates practically exploded from the force of the drop while two more broke. The top two had several chips, but were still good.

Hiiro winced. Quatre was going to kill him.

Harry gave a pathetic sniffle. "I'm sorry!"

"Are you hurt?" Hiiro stepped around the shards, feeling a few dig into his ankles uncomfortably.

"N-no," Harry sniffled. "But I broke all the plates."

"Believe me when I tell you that was not fine china," Hiiro soothed, checking Harry over for himself before washing his own cuts with soap and water. They could be dealt with later, since they were clean and had stopped bleeding. Hiiro lifted Harry out of the mess, setting him on a barstool just as Quatre and the others rushed in.

"Are you all right? I heard a crash!" Quatre saw the pile of dishes to late and Hiiro grabbed him off the ground before the teen could cut his bare feet on the broken ceramic.

"Shoes," Hiiro ordered, handing Quatre to Trowa. "I will handle this."

Trowa looked at Harry, who was crying softly, then nodded to Hiiro. It would be best for Hiiro to handle this, to prove to Harry that they could all be trusted. Hiiro nodded in reply, and gathered Harry in his arms. "It's all right, green eyes," Hiiro soothed.

Harry wiped his eyes. "But I dropped the plates."

"Did you do it on purpose?"

Harry shook his head rapidly, the wild strands tickling Hiiro's chin. "No!"

"And you are not in trouble. Accidents happen, Harry. Just like it was an accident that you got lost this morning. I handed you too many plates. The fault is mine. I'm just glad you're not hurt."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Next time, just tell me when something is too heavy. I'm very strong, Harry; sometimes I forget that not everyone can hold what I can, all right?"

"But I'm not supposed to complain."

"You won't be. Knowing your own limits is important, all right?" Hiiro smiled at him. "You were afraid I'd be angry if you said something, and you were afraid I'd be angry if you dropped the plates. But I'm not angry you dropped the plates, and I won't be angry if you tell me you aren't capable of doing something. If you don't know how, I'll teach you. If you simply can't, then you can trust me to help, all right?"

Harry nodded and scuffed at his eyes, wiping away his tears. "Can I still help you cook?"

"Of course. You're a wonderful helper." Hiiro pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead. "Now then, I'll get the broom. Will you hold the dustpan? And then I'll run a mop over the floor and you can stir the food, all right?"

"You promise you aren't mad?" Harry clung more tightly to the small teen.

"I promise." Hiiro let him cling, standing and carrying Harry to the closet. "Will you help me clean it up? Since I suppose we're both to blame?" He smiled gently and Harry gave a shy nod, taking the offered dustpan and following him toward the pile and watching Hiiro trash the worst of it before sweeping it up. Harry continued to watch as he stirred, awed at the efficiency that Hiiro worked with.

"You're fast," Harry commented, and Hiiro smiled, and got out even more plates, handing half the stack to Harry and setting the rest on the counter.

"Take several trips," Hiiro told him, setting down glasses as well, and telling Harry to get cutlery from the drawer. Harry nodded and finished setting the table as Hiiro finished supper. "We make an excellent team." Hiiro ruffled his hair.

Harry started and stared at him, eyes brimming with emotions. Hiiro offered a gentle smile. "Get the others, please."

Harry started at Hiiro a moment longer, and then hurried off, calling for Trowa. "Hiiro said we made a good team!" Harry threw himself at his cousin's legs. "But Hiiro cleaned up the plates. You're not mad, are you? I didn't mean to drop them, and. . . and Hiiro said it was okay because it was just an accident. I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean to break the plates. And. . . and you won't be mad with Hiiro, right? For telling me it was okay because it was an accident? I mean, I know I'm bad but. . . but. . . Hiiro said it was an accident and--"

"Harry, it was an accident," Trowa stopped the fall of words, gently touching a finger to Harry's lips. "Remember what Quatre and I said about accidents? They happen. It's okay. I'm not upset either."

"Promise?" Harry unburied his face from Trowa's stomach and looked up to meet his cousin's green eyes. The sight of Trowa's eyes were comforting to Harry. It was something that connected them.

"Promise." Trowa took Harry's hand, calling the others to dinner and headed for the kitchen. Harry followed closely behind him, and blinked at the tasty looking dish on the table.

"We made that?" Harry smelled it, mouth watering. "Can I have some, too?" He knew he wasn't allowed to eat much, but maybe he wouldn't have to have dry toast, even though there were lots of people there. Maybe he'd be allowed to have some of the food he and Hiiro had made.

"This isn't the Dursleys, Harry," Trowa reminded him. "I'm not going to make you go hungry."

Harry slid into the seat Trowa indicated, watching as they served themselves, and Trowa put some of the stir-fry on Harry's plate. He looked uncertain for a moment, but after Hiiro took his first bite--the chef always started first in Quatre's house--then the others dug in. Harry quickly followed, savoring the taste. "It's good!"

"Harry did very well," Hiiro complimented. "If it is all right with you, Trowa, I wish to teach him some of my tricks."

Trowa rolled his eyes. "What the hell? Cathy'll teach them to him anyway. Just don't start with real knives."

Hiiro snorted. "Like I would."

"Have to say it. I am his cousin, after all."

Harry giggled a little and Wu Fei leaned toward him. "Just wait. I bet it gets worse. Trowa's over protective."

"I am not!" Trowa tossed a piece of carrot at Wu Fei, who caught it in his mouth.

"Yum. Thanks."

"Hey! Give me some!" Duo opened his mouth, waiting for Trowa to toss him a piece. Trowa ignored him, but Quatre obliged, and Trowa silently mourned Harry's guaranteed loss of table manners. Harry looked like he wanted to join in, and Trowa finally gave in, tossing a bit of broccoli his way. Harry managed to catch it, and Trowa grinned, miming for Harry to attempt to toss some.

He landed short, but Quatre just shrugged and grabbed it, happily munching it down. "That is quite good."

Harry looked unsure, but Trowa shrugged. "We're still teenagers, Harry. Our rules are bound to be as unconventional as our family. But, just like our family, they'll all work out in the end."

Harry considered that, and nodded. Maybe Trowa was right about that. Maybe Harry finally had a chance to have a family. Maybe Trowa wouldn't send him back even if his friends didn't like him. But, and Harry wished harder for his last thought than another other than night, but maybe, just maybe, the others would love him and want him, too.**  
oOooOo**


	12. Health

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Twelve  
Health

**Disclaimer:** I still haven't managed to get rights to either series, since my genie went AWOL. _sigh_  
**Warnings:** (1x2 3x4 5x6) Sap. Lots and lots of sap. But I can't help it because Harry's just too cute!  
**Author's Note:** I'm sorry for the wait. I've been pulled a million different ways and I managed to get sick for a month. Yup, a month. I do _not_ reccomend it. Never get sick for a freaking month at a go, it sucks. So. That's my excuse. The chapter is nice and cute and long and I hope you all enjoy it. I loved writing it and it gave me cavities. Also, a _huge_ thanks to my beta. She makes sure you can read my story because I have bad spelling and lots of typos.

_To Obsessive Child:_ Yes, there is a wizarding world. You won't see it this story, but you will see some of Harry's magic peeking out.

_To Everyone:_ I'm so glad you're enjoying this. I love writing it, even if real life takes up so much of my time. Even so, it makes me happy to reaad your reviews over and over. Yes, I admit I'm areview slut, lol. Thank you for all the encouraging reviews, though, and I apologize again for taking so long to update. For those of you that have asked bout magic, there will be accidental magic in the story. The characters you are familier with in Hogwarts, however, will likely not appear this story. I have tossed around the idea of a sequal, and it's gotten overwhelming responses (mostly yeses), so we'll see when I'm done.

Until then, though, please do me a favor. . .

Enjoy part twelve.  
**oOooOo  
**  
"Time to go!" Trowa called into Harry's room Monday morning, amidst the chaos of seven people attempting to run in a dozen directions all at the same time. Duo had been in charge of breakfast so Hiiro could finish their lunchs, and Harry had been so tired from the excitement of the weekend he hadn't gotten up until Trowa dragged him out of bed fifteen minutes late.

"I'm ready!" Harry finished pulling on his uniform rushed toward his cousin. His shoes and backpack were by the door leading to the garage. Quatre spun around them, rushing up the stairs.

"Trowa, we have a meeting in thirty minutes! Zechs said he'd take Harry to school today!" Quatre called to Trowa, rushing up to his office.

Harry and Trowa blinked at each other, and then shrugged. "You heard the man," Trowa ruffled his cousin's hair. "Looks like Zechs is taking you to school. Go get the rest of your things and get your lunch from Hiiro."

"Kay!" Harry chirruped and raced down the stairs, giggling the entire way while Trowa went to put on his tie and take his briefcase from Quatre. Hiiro, Duo, and Wu Fei were headed into the Preventor's base in London, and Zechs had a meeting with their money manager later about moving some accounts and arranging their annual donations to various charities and to make sure that the schools promised money on L2 would get the funds they needed.

"Zechs! I'm ready to go!" Harry skidded to a halt at the door, panting, shoes in hand. Zechs laughed and waited for the boy to pull his shoes on before they left, Harry skipping merrily alongside Zechs to the sports car he had decided to drive. Harry wiggled a bit and grinned at Zechs as they left the house, staring out the window quietly. Trowa had warned Zechs that Harry did like to look out the window and probably wouldn't talk much, so Zechs ignored it and started some music he thought Harry might like.

"Here we are," Zechs let Harry out, watching the boy run into the school before he left. Harry was so excited to tell Ali and Lance all about his weekend!

"Ali! Lance!" Harry almost fell over as he reached his classroom. "You'll never believe it! They're so cool!"

Ali blinked, and Lance glanced up at him. Lance wasn't in Harry's class, but he stopped into the room to talk to Ali and Harry before class began, most mornings. "Really?"

"Yeah," Harry began chattering about his new family, but managed to remember not to tell his friends that his new brothers were the Gundam Pilots, even though he really, really wanted to. They talked until the bell rang; forcing Lance to hurry to his own class, but Harry and Ali kept talking. Ali was moving a little stiffly, Harry noticed, but he wasn't really worried. Sometimes he got stiff if he played too much, like the time he'd fallen off the balance beam in the playground when he was little. He'd been five and it had really, really hurt. So maybe Ali had done something like that.

Harry shrugged it off and waited for the Miss Grace to start the lesson, and paid very close attention. He couldn't wait for school to end and he got to spend lots more time with his brothers!  
**oOooOo**

It was Wu Fei who picked Harry up that afternoon and Harry slid into the car and almost immediately started talking. Wu Fei blinked at him for a moment--he had been an incredibly quiet child--before smiling and encouraging him to continue. "Lance didn't bring the Gundams to school today," Harry sighed. "So we decided to pretend instead. I was Heavy Arms today, and Ali was Sandrock, and Lance was Wing Zero! And then some other boys decided to play, and they were Shenlong and Tallgeese and Deathscythe. It was so cool! And Miss Grace is letting us have some butterflies for science class. And we learned all about Hiiro Yui in class today. But not my Hiiro, it was a different Hiiro.

"But they have the exact same name, which is so cool! And I asked about Hiiro, but the teacher was confused and she thought I meant the other Hiiro, you know? And she almost laughed when I said I knew Hiiro Yui because the other one's been dead for ages, right? And then--"

After that, Wu Fei half-tuned him out, still nodding every once in awhile as he headed toward the house. Hiiro must have put something weird in his lunchbox, because the boy was hyper. Extremely hyper. "Do you have homework to do once we get home?"

"Just a little. I have some vocabulary to learn, and I have division. I'm not good at that, though. Hey, can you help me with my division? It's long division and I just don't understand it! Miss Grace said that if I was still having trouble at the end, she'd help, but she said to ask you guys first." The entire tirade was said on a single breath. Harry talked as much as Maxwell. If they both went at it together, no one would be able to get a word in edgewise.

"I suppose I can help," Wu Fei stopped the car. "But not right now, so why don't you work on your vocabulary first?"

"Trowa was helping me. Is he home?"

Wu Fei examined the vehicles in the garage. "I doubt it. But it looks like Duo is. Why don't you ask him?"

Harry raced inside, still chattering, and barely paused to kick his shoes off at the door before hunting down Duo. Wu Fei just shook his head and laughed half-helplessly as he headed to his office to sign the few papers that needed done and then head back toward the kitchen for a snack. Duo and Harry were already there, munching down celery with peanut butter and raisins.

"Ants on a log, Wu Fei!" Harry cheered, taking a huge bite. "It's really good!"

Wu Fei grimaced. He hated celery. But he took a bite anyway, and blinked, surprised. "That's pretty good," He agreed. He'd always avoided it during the war because he despised celery, but how was he supposed to say no when Harry leveled those big, green eyes at him? It was like attempting to turn down Quatre. Didn't work.

"See? And Duo's almost done with my vocabulary, so then you can help with my division!" Harry patted the barstool next to him and turned back to Duo, who was quizzing him on spelling and definitions. Harry was actually quite bright, Wu Fei admitted to himself, and took a seat. They didn't have much further and he was hungry, so he helped himself to the "ants-on-a-log." They weren't half bad, really, if he could overlook the rather ridiculous name.

"Well, that's it for me!" Duo stood and stretched. "I'm headed out to the shop, Fei-fei. Harry's in your tender care now."

"Thanks for helping, Duo," Harry tucked the book away and pulled out another. Wu Fei glanced over it, almost sighing. It was easy math, but Harry was young so he was still learning. Taking a peice of scratch paper and a pencil, Wu Fei leaned towards his charge, watching Harry work. It was a nice change to getting shot at, teaching was. Maybe in a few more years, Wu Fei would become a teacher. High school students would be fine, and they couldn't be any worse than a war, right?  
**oOooOo  
**  
Harry sat up in startled shock as he stared at his clock Tuesday morning. He was already two hours later! Why hadn't Trowa woken him? Racing downstairs, Harry almost tripped over Hiiro as he skidded to a halt. "I'm late for school!" Harry wailed, almost falling into the kitchen. Trowa blinked at him.

"You're going to the doctors' today, remember?" Trowa patted the stool next to him. "Sit down for some breakfast. We have a ten o'clock appointment for the pediatrician, an appointment at one for your teeth, and an appointment at three for your eyes."

"Why all the tests?" Harry made a face.

"Because we don't trust the Dursleys to have done it properly," Quatre explained.

"Are you coming, Mr. Quatre?"

"Hiiro and I are headed to a meeting this morning, but I'll meet you, Trowa, and Duo at lunch and spend the afternoon with you." Quatre finished his tea, let loose a few swearwords in a laungauge Harry didn't speak, and raced from the room. "Hiiro! We leave in five!"

Hiiro rolled his eyes. "You'd think we were going to be late," Hiiro commented, shrugging into the suit coat and making sure all of his weapons were in place. Hiiro was acting as Quatre's personal assistant and bodyguard for the morning meetings. The pilots had quickly discovered that if Hiiro stood behind Quatre and glowered, things moved much faster.

Harry gaped at the number of weapons Hiiro had on him, then looked at Duo. "Do you wear that many weapons?"

"Not unless I'm guarding Q-bean," Duo smiled. "Don't need them. They just look impressive."

Harry nodded and finished the breakfast Duo had offered him, then rushed up the stairs to get dressed. Duo and Trowa both gave small, indulgent smiles. "I'm glad he's acting like a kid," Duo commented.

"He was very scared of me, at first," Trowa agreed. "I told about when I put him in my bed. Kid nearly had a heart attack. I don't know what Vernon was telling him, but it couldn't have been good.

"So, the doctors, then," Duo grabbed the dishes, putting them in the sink to soak or in the dishwasher. "Where's that at?"

"Not far from here." Trowa grabbed the washcloth and Duo picked up a towel. Trowa was going to wash, and Duo would dry and put away. There weren't many dishes, but all the pilots liked the teamwork they'd built up and constantly did little things to stay in sync with each other.

"I'm really worried though. That the doctor will have really bad news," Trowa confessed.

Duo shrugged. "There are a lot of things he could say. But Harry did have some medical care, so you won't have to worry about things like parasites, and I'm sure he's been kept up on his shots. In all honesty, Trowa, he's probably in better shape than I was at his age. And probably you, too."

"No, I was always kept current with medical things," Trowa waved a hand. "The mercenaries kept me fed and clothed and all that, because some of them liked me well enough, and they figured that it looked good for me to look decent. Like they couldn't be back-stabbing assholes because they took really good care of their kid, you know?"

"Never thought about it. I know Hiiro was kept current."

"After what J did to him, it wouldn't have mattered."

"There is that. But Q, Fei-fei, and Zechs were, too. Rich boys," Duo teased fondly, finishing the last dish and putting it away. Trowa wiped down the table and counters and nodded in agreement, a soft smile playing about his lips. Quatre and Hiiro had left nearly twenty minutes ago, stopping only to give their respective lovers quick kisses and then they were out the door.

Harry reappeared some ten minutes later, hair still wet and his tee-shirt on backwards. Trowa laughed softly as he pointed it out. "But I like the picture on the front!" Harry protested. "I can't see it on the back."

"Yes, but you look rather ridiculous," Trowa tweaked his nose lightly. "Turn it around."

"Fine," Harry huffed and turned the shirt, still frowning. "But it's still boring. There's nothing on the front."

And he was right, the back had a huge, colorful picture of some cartoon character that Harry seemed to like, but the front was entirely plain. Duo eyed it for a moment, and then flicked a finger in Harry's direction so he'd stay there before the long-haired pilot bounded up the stairs. He returned moments later with a set of dog-tags. "We kept your old tags, Tro," Duo explained, measuring off the chain so it would fit Harry and snapping them on. "Now people know who to bring him back to if he gets lost."

"Duo!" Harry giggled, touching the tags. "These are really Trowa's?"

"We have them because we work in the preventors. Mine took a bullet--don't look at me like that, it was just a graze--and were ruined, so I got a new pair. Only Duo would have kept them."

"We go through them so fast I figured I'd make a picture frame out of them," Duo shrugged. "I just don't have enough yet. We'll have to get Harry his own tags, just for fun."

"We could," Trowa mused, watching Harry continue to caress the tags. He had a feeling even if he did get Harry a set of his own tags, he'd never take off Trowa's. The teen gave an affectionate smile, caressing the back of Harry's neck and herding everyone toward the car. If they wanted to be on time, they'd have to leave soon.  
**oOooOo  
**  
Harry wasn't entirely sure how to act at the doctor's, his relatives had only ever taken him to the school on the days they offered the free shots, so he'd never been in a doctor's office before. Not that he remembered, anyway. "Trowa?" Harry glanced around the colorful waiting room full of books, magazines, and toys.

"What is it, Harry?" Trowa led him toward the window, with Duo trailing after them, grinning and waving at several of the small children in the waiting room. Most of them were sick, sniffing and coughing, and several little ones were crying, obviously miserable, in their parents' arms.

"Am I sick? Is that why I'm here?"

"No, Harry, you just need a check-up so we know you're 100% healthy." Trowa smiled, taking the offered clipboard and heading toward a seat. "Duo, will you be a distraction?"

"Why don't you do it?" Duo took the board. "You can distract all the kids, not just Harry."

"And what do you propose I do?"

"I see some balloons and some balls. Figure it out."

Trowa sighed, but found found the balls Duo had mentioned. There were several beanbags buried in the back of the shelf, behind the balls, so Trowa dug them out, and started to juggle. Harry's eyes got big. Trowa winked at him. "Throw me another, Harry," He nodded to the bags. He had three in the air, and Harry added a fourth. Once he found his rhythm, he started flipping them around his legs, and behind his back, juggled them backwards and then in columns. At Trowa's request, Harry tossed in another bag.

Harry clapped, delighted, and watched as Trowa continued to juggle. The other children turned too, eyes wide as they watched the circus clown. "I didn't know you could do that, Trowa," Harry gaped.

"I'm a clown," Trowa smiled. "Cathy and I juggle together a lot."

"She throws knives at you, too," Duo cracked, finishing the paperwork and taking it back to the nurse. She smiled at him.

"It shouldn't be too long. We'll call you when it's your turn," She offered, pointing to the chairs again and turning back to watch Trowa.

"You got any balloons?" Duo asked. "He does animals."

"We do, actually. Maggie bought the wrong ones last time," The nurse grinned and handed him two packages of long, slender balloons. "I would like a rabbit."

"A bunny for the pretty lady. You got it!" Duo pulled a pack open and blew one up, twisting it expertly. "I do them too," He offered in a conspiratorial whisper, grinning.

The nurse laughed outright at him, watching the Duo made animals and a few swords and flowers for the children while Trowa kept juggling. All they needed were a few animals and they'd have a regular circus. Harry was more than happy to watch Trowa juggle, and the nurse had to call them back, somewhat regretfully, the other children whined about losing their entertainment. Trowa and Duo smiled and waved before gathering up Harry and heading towards the indicated office.

"What's she going to do?" Harry frowned, jumping up on the table. He hated the smell of the doctor's office and the crinkling of the paper.

"I'm giving you a check up, my boy," The doctor was around forty, his dark hair just beginning to gray at the temples. Dark eyes regarded Harry calmly, and he grabbed the charts a nurse had left at the door, flipping through them. "Looks like you're due for a few shots, child, and some other things."

Harry didn't like that he had to undress and put on a crinkly, paper gown. By the time the first round was over, Harry looked rather annoyed. Several changes had been made to the system after the war, and Harry had needed his hand- and foot-prints registered, as well as his DNA. The doctor had needed blood and urine samples, and had poked and prodded at Harry until the boy looked ready to cry. "It's okay, Harry," Trowa hold him and tried to calm him, and Harry just clung to his cousin.

"I'm sorry to have to do all this, but you're missing so many records you should have. Most of your shots are up to date, but it's like no one was keeping track of your health at all," The doctor was genuinely concerned, which eased Trowa's glare, but Harry still hated it.

"Hey, it'll be over soon, though, right doc?" Duo patted Harry's back. He'd offered his own arm up for blood so Harry would let the doctor take his, and Trowa knew needles freaked Duo out. He hated them. Had a "thing" he called it. The other pilots always found it funny, because Duo knew they didn't hurt, and he wasn't bothered by being stuck, but he couldn't stand to watch. He didn't want to know when he was being stuck with it, and only cared to know anything about it when it ended. Harry would probably never realize how much it had cost Duo to smile and pretend the needle didn't bother him in the least.

"I'm almost done," The doctor agreed. "And the test results should be back, shortly. Technology is wonderful. Before, you would have been forced to wait at least a week."

The doctor finished getting Harry registered, adding a picture in case he was ever abducted or lost and they needed to send out an Amber Alert. Photo files were supposed to be updated every three months. Harry's was over five years old. Finally, giving him the last of his shots, the doctor told Harry to get dressed and stepped out to pick up the lab results. Trowa wasn't worried until the Doctor asked to speak to him without Harry.

At Trowa's pleading look, Duo readily took Harry back to the waiting room. Trowa turned to the doctor. "What's wrong with him? How serious is it?"

"Depends on what you do about it. Now sit down, Mr. Barton and let me talk to you before you get too worried. It's repairable." The doctor put a hand on Trowa's shoulder, guiding him to a chair. "I do have a few concerns. You said he recently came into your care?"

At Trowa's nod, the Doctor continued. "You should charge whoever had him before with neglect and abuse! What they did to that boy--unforgivable!"

"I was under the impression he was not physically abused." Trowa blinked.

"There are other was to abuse a child," The Doctor almost started at the almost-confusion on Trowa's face. He knew, of course, but judging what was considered abuse was hard for him, at best, because of how difficult his childhood was. Quatre, Zechs, and Wu Fei had helped him carefully plan what kind of punishments Harry would have to endure in his care simply because he did not know where the line between punishment and abuse was. Duo only had a vague idea, and Hiiro, like Trowa, was also lost.

"What happened to him?"

"The least concerning was what I noticed about his feet. Unless I miss my guess, he was in shoes that were far too small for him for long periods of time. This causes a condition known as 'hammer toe.' It just means that his toes point down, like the claw of a hammer. It won't hurt him, it's not severe, and it's cosmetic anyway. You could correct it, but it is not a necessity. There are other concerns, thought. We took Harry's height and weight when he came in, and he's very small for a nine year old. He's only forty six inches, and he barely weighs thirty seven pounds--that's 116.8 centimeters and 16.8 kilograms."

"Is that bad?"

"I couldn't tell you for sure that it's not a natural rate of growth, but he is severely underweight, Mr. Barton. I suspect long-term mistreatment and mal-nutrition. He doesn't have many of the mineral his body requires. I'm giving you a strict diet to put him on to get the nutrition he needs and giving you vitamins for him. It's good he's active, but he needs to build up at least a little of that weight. But you have to be willing to do this for him. He'll need your help and support." The doctor crossed his arms.

"We'll all be there for him. We want him to get better and stay that way."

"You understand that he's more susceptible to infection right now, of course." The doctor frowned. "If there are any signs, bring him back. I don't want to take chances with his health because I'm not sure he has anything to fight it with. His body's so busy trying to stay alive day-to-day that a cold might be severely detrimental."

"I understand, Doctor. Thank you."

"Bring him back in three months. I want to keep a close eye on him until I'm satisfied his weight is where it's supposed to be." The doctor wrote something on his pad and handed it to Trowa. "Any emergencies have them call me."

Trowa gave a nod and rose, shaking the man's hand. "Thank you."

"No, thank you. I'm glad someone is doing something. It's good these laws are in place to help children, but sometimes it makes them get overlooked as well." The doctor sighed. "They're so busy with the orphans that they forget that home is not always the best environment. I'm glad you took him away before he was hurt more."

"So am I, doctor," Trowa murmured, letting the doctor walk him back to the waiting room. Gathering up Harry and Duo, Trowa led the way to the care, casually filling Duo in using the sweeper language. Duo nodded, frowning a little.

"Can't say I ever got hammer toe, but that's a mixed blessing," Duo gave a tiny laugh.

"Why's that?" Trowa kept Harry's hand firmly in his.

Duo grinned. "Didn't have any shoes to get hammer toes. Ran around barefoot. No squished shoes, no hammer toes," Duo grinned and Trowa rolled his eyes. That was a mixed blessing.

Harry listened, confused, and sighed. "Am I healthy?"

"Mostly," Trowa glanced in the rearview mirror. "The doctor thinks you're underweight, but he says that can be solved easily enough. We just need to feed you better."

"But I'm eating already," Harry's brows furrowed.

"The doctor put you in a diet to gain more weight, and then when you're fully healthy, we can eat like normal again. Sound good?"

Harry just shrugged. He didn't entirely understand what he was supposed to do, but if Trowa said it was fine, then it was fine. "Where're we eating?" Harry was hungry. He had always been hungry at the Dursleys, but he was still hungry a lot.

"Some place Quatre picked. It should be tasty." Quatre was good at picking restaurants, and Duo was hardly picky.

Harry shrugged again, staring out the window until Trowa turning into the parking lot. Harry didn't recognize the restaurant, but that was fine. As long as it had good food, he was hardly going to complain!

Hiiro and Quatre met them inside, waving to them as they entered, and the lovers traded kisses and greetings before settling in. Harry found himself between Hiiro and Trowa, facing the window. He was startled when Quatre handed him a menu and to order what he liked. Harry frowned. "But. . . I don't know. I've never had any of this stuff before."

"Well, what are some things you like?"

"I don't know, Mr. Quatre, I'm sorry," Harry chewed his lip. When they'd been out before, Trowa had helped Harry choose, finding something he'd like and ordering, so Harry never really had to worry about the menu. But what if Quatre was mad Harry didn't know what he wanted?

"That's all right, Harry," Quatre smiled. "Let's think about it. But until then, would you like some soda?" Harry was only allowed carbonated beverages when he was out to eat, because it was a special treat. At home he usually had juice, milk, or water. Though Quatre liked to mix the juices with carbonated water to add fizz. Harry really liked them that way.

"Root beer?" Harry pleaded. That was his addiction in the cola world.

"All right," Trowa nodded to the waiter, who took off as they turned back to the menus. "What do you want to eat for a meat, Harry?"

"Can I have. . . a hamburger?" Harry never got hamburgers at the Dursleys, because Dudley ate them all, so there was none left for Harry. But they always smelled very, very good. "Please?"

The pilots glanced at each other and shrugged. "Why not? It's a treat."

Harry was surprised when Quatre excitedly order a hamburger too, and the others eagerly followed. Duo grinned. "Looks like you started a trend, kiddo. I bet they're good, too."

"I just want a burger," Quatre grumbled. "I haven't had a burger in ages!"

"Yeah, not since the last time I kidnapped you from the office three months ago," Duo agreed, smirking slightly. Quatre made a face at him and the conversation degenerated from there, leaving them looking like nothing more than four happy teenagers and an equally happy child swapping stories and fries. Harry just wished it would end there so he wouldn't have to go to the dentist. Dudley always said bad things about the dentist.  
**oOooOo  
**  
Quatre, Trowa, and Harry headed toward the dentist, and Harry was growing increasingly more agitated as they approached. "It's not going to hurt, is it, Trowa?" Harry chewed at his lip. "Dudley always said it hurt. . ."

"The dentist tries not to hurt people," Trowa soothed, smiling. "I've been several times, and it never hurt me."

"Were you taken as a kid?" Quatre, who was driving, flicked a look in Trowa's direction.

"Yeah. Not as often as they should have, most likely, but often enough. They didn't want me getting a cavity and crying, and since it was free under the 'Orphan Health Plan,' they always made sure I was kept up to date on that sort of thing." Trowa shrugged. "It's kind of surprising the level of healthcare I actually had. Hiiro and Duo too, when I think of it."

"Duo had healthcare?"

"Not often, of course, but once he was taken in he did. That was the one good thing Alliance attempted, giving kids free healthcare." Trowa mused. "Seemed to work well enough. Once we had access, we were generally well-kept."

Quatre nodded. He'd never had anything but the best, so sometimes it was difficult for him to reconcile the idea that some of his comrades had only the minimal healthcare available. Dental under the alliance meant Trowa had been eligable for getting his teeth cleaned once every two years and was allowed to have a dentist fill two cavities or pull his teeth. Health had been that Trowa could get care if he was ill and needed medication. There was no care for his eyesight. Trowa had not been to an eye doctor until after the first war, when Cathy had forced him to go.

"How did they do?"

"I hated going," Trowa said softly. It had hurt to go to the dentists; they'd been the cheapest around and probably only got governmental clients who couldn't afford better. Not that Trowa blamed those others for going anywhere else. More often than not, he'd been pricked and prodded and cut every time one of the flunky hygienists put their hands near his mouth. "But I've heard that the good places don't hurt."

"I've never been hurt by a dentist," Quatre agreed. "And this one is the best around here."

Trowa gave a nod and took Harry's hand, leading him into the sterile office. Harry wrinkled his nose--it smelled like a dentist's office--and plopped into the chair Trowa patted, grabbing a magazing and flipping through. Quatre went to handle the paperwork, knowing it would go much faster. The office was fairly empty, though Trowa wasn't sure if it was a good sign or not. Either the man was good enough to keep up with his work, or no one wanted to see him because he was bad.

"Ready to go, Mr. Potter?" The hygenist was a sweet looking woman in her thirties, young enough that she probably had a child or two around Harry's age. "My name is Kelly and I'll be taking some x-rays first, and we'll have to get some molds so we can register you on the system. First time you've ever been to a dentist?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry followed obediently, taking her offered hand. The hygienist smiled at the two teens. "You two can stay, and can come back after the x-rays, or there's a small cafe just down the strip, if you'd like to go there. We'll call you when we finished to come get him."

"We'll stay," Trowa told her firmly, and the relief in Harry's eyes was almost saddening. Though Trowa had a feeling it was because he was scared of the dentist and not because he thought Trowa wouldn't come get him if he left.

"All right. I'll come get you after we're done with x-rays," She nodded, taking Harry back. Harry clambered into the indicated chair, and inspected the room for a moment.

"Dudley said that the dentist hurts," Harry told Kelly, looking a little worried. "Will it?"

"We aim not to. If we're hurting you, there's something wrong and you need to tell us," Kelly spread the heavy cape over him and helped him bite the little tool, quickly taking his x-rays. She led him to another room and collected Trowa and Quatre, pointing to chairs they could sit in while they waited. Harry was patiently curious, asking quiestions and relieved to find that nothing hurt. The hygienist was good, and didn't hurt him at all, though she was concerned about his dental health. It was easy for her to tell that it had only recently become a major priority.

"Whoever had him before you needs a kick in the ass," She grumbled to Trowa and Quatre, finishing her cleaning. The dentist appeared moments later, checking Harry's teeth over and asking Trowa if he wanted Harry's teeth sealed.

"Sealed?"

"It helps prevent cavities in the adult teeth," The dentist explained. "It's usually covered with insurance, though I'm assuming Mr. Winner can afford it. But it will help his overall dental health."

"Does it take long?"

"Five minutes, maybe," The dentist waved a hand.

"All right, seal them up," Quatre winked at Harry, who grinned.

Harry was skipping away merrily, a sticker on his shirt. "That wasn't so bad, was it Harry?" Trowa ruffled his hair.

"Nope. Not at all like Dudley said. He said it really hurt, so Aunt Petunia never took him back." Harry grinned. "But it didn't hurt me!"

"Nope! You're much better at caring for your teeth," Quatre poked him with one of the toothbrushes he'd been given by the dentist. Harry giggled and nodded. "I always brushed them before bed, but Dudley never liked to because they couldn't find chocolate toothpaste. I always used the little ones Dudley didn't like, and I used baking soda like old Miss Figg said I could. It tasted bad, but I liked having my teeth clean. They get all fuzzy otherwise."

"That's nasty," Quatre wrinkled his nose. He hated having his teeth feel like that. They couldn't get cavities (had to love some of the work the doctors did) but that didn't mean they couldn't get bad breath.

"Now where?"

"Well, you had fluoride so you can't eat or drink for forty-five minutes, but we have an hour before we need to be at the eye doctors." Trowa frowned a little. "I think there's a book store over near him, we could do there."

"I don't know. . ." Harry frowned. "I wasn't allowed to read a lot. . . Aunt Petunia thought it would give me ideas."

"Ideas of what?"

"I don't know. That's what she said. She hated it when I read fiction books and stuff. So. . . it wasn't lots of fun."

"That'll change. Come on, we'll find some book you like. You like it when Quatre and I read to you." Trowa was more than relieved when Quatre pulled into the parking lot and they tromped into the bookstore. Quatre headed straight towards the children's section with Harry, waving off Trowa and telling him to go find something useful.

He rolled his eyes, knowing full well what that mean. Pulling out his phone, he started dialing.

"Yui."

"Barton. I'm in a bookstore. Want anything?"

Hiiro listed off two cookbooks he'd been after, the complete works of Sherlock Holmes, and the book Computers for Dummies. He needed three copies, because he kept them to hand off to the morons that called him for help in place of tech support. They were generally the idiots that couldn't figure out that the computer needed plugged in before it was turned on.

Duo, who was with Hiiro, requested two non-fiction history books that Wu Fei had recommended but didn't have copies of, and a humorous fiction book (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) that Hilde heard was a riot. The two of them had their own little book club. They'd read a book together and talk about it over the phone. Strangely Hilde was Duo's best friend and they appreciated the same humor, so no one ever said anything.

Wu Fei was next on the list, and asked for a large book on ancient architecture and then a book on plants. "No light reading?" Trowa raised an eyebrow.

"Only if you can find a good copy of Redwall. Maxwell ruined mine."

"In all fairness, Wu Fei, that one was a worthy death."

"I don't mind the book stopping the bullet. That doesn't mean he couldn't have replaced it in less than three months."

"I'll look. Then I'll make him pay me back. Anything else?"

"No, thank you." Wu Fei handed the phone to Zechs, who asked for a book on mythology and a new journal.

Trowa sighed and hung up, searching out the various requests and finding all but Wu Fei's requested Redwall. It looked like they'd have to order it on-line. That was pity, because there was nothing they liked more than digging through a bookstore. Trowa just shrugged and loaded the books up, going to find Quatre and Harry, who were digging through several children's books. The complete works or Dr. Seuss, still one of the best-selling children's books in the world, was clutched in Harry's hands, and several other books were in Quatre's. Trowa didn't recognize them, but it wasn't much of a surprise, considering he didn't know much about children's books.

"Find everything?"

"Just in time," Quatre gave a cheerful smile. "We found a lot that I think Harry will like. Maybe his bookshelves won't look so bare, now."

"Yeah, well, remind me to get repaid from the others. And smack Duo. He still hasn't replaced Wu Fei's copy of Redwall."

"Wasn't that--"

"Three months? Wu Fei reminded me." Trowa sighed. "Now, let's go or we'll be late for the optometrist."

Harry was excited for his new books, and kept a hold on his new Dr. Seuss book to read in the waiting room while they put the rest in the car. Quatre let him, leading the way to their next stop.

"Is this going to hurt?"

"I have never had an eye-exam hurt," Quatre soothed. "Ever."

"You've been a lot?"

"My fair share," Quatre smiled gently. "Now come on you two. Time to get this done, and then we'll head home to help with supper. Sound good?"

"Yeah! Trowa said he got Hiiro new cookbooks. Maybe we can make something from them!" Harry looked so excited that Trowa didn't have the heart to tell Harry is wasn't likely simply because Hiiro had no idea what recipes were in the books yet. But, knowing Harry, he'd convince Hiiro to look.

The exam was simple enough, but the doctor looked a little worried about his glasses. "When was the last time you had new glasses?" She asked, writing something in her board.

"Oh, I got these when I was seven," Harry grinned. "I got to pick them from a box for glasses for kids that these people had when they found out I couldn't buy glasses. The school brought them in. It was quite nice."

"And you haven't had your eyes checked since?"

"Well, they were never checked by a doctor. I just picked the ones I saw out of best," Harry shrugged. The doctor looked ready to commit homicide. Trowa stepped back when she rounded on him.

"What do you mean you've never checked his eyes?" She snarled. "That boy is half-blind and you didn't bother--you--you--how could you! He's a little boy!"

"Trowa only got custody of him three weeks ago," Quatre broke in, making the doctor blink.

"Oh. Sorry, then." She frowned. "But I may need the number for his other family, just for our records, you know, in case something happens. . ."

"You didn't get it from us," Quatre scribbled it down and handed it to her, ignoring the look that crossed her face as she pocketed it. The look was somewhere between a homicidal Dorothy and an annoyed lioness.

"Have Harry pick some new frames and his new perscription will be ready in three days. I want him in poly-carb lenses. He was in glass, but they're too heavy and too thick. The other set will be lighter and offer better UV protection."

"Do you recommend perscription sun glasses?"

"At his age? No, his eyes will change enough that it will be a hassle. But we can have some clip-ons made if you'd like him to have a set."

"Safety glasses?"

"Get him goggles. He can wear them over his glasses. When the changing slows in a few years, then you can invest in some things like that. If you want them corrected, you'll have to wait until he's around twenty five so his eye sight has a chance to fully stopped changing." The pilots nodded, and led Harry to the front room.

'You're getting brand new glasses," Trowa told Harry. "Why don't you pick out some you like? These frames here are for children."

Harry looked at all the frames and frowned. "Don't I have to pick the cheap ones?"

"No, Harry. Pick the ones you want to have."

Harry nodded, looking over the glasses. "Those are like Wu Fei's!" He pointed to a gold pair and Trowa took them down, letting Harry settle them on his nose. They looked odd on Harry's face, and Harry squinted into the mirror. "Um. . ."

"It's all right not to like them. You and Wu Fei look different, so his glasses will look different on you."

"Okay," Harry handed them back and looked a little closer, finding another pair he liked a lot. They were sleek, black wire, and more of an oval shape than a circle, like his old glasses. Harry really liked them. Trying on a few more pairs, he decided he liked the black ones best and Quatre put in the order for his new glasses and a pair of clip-on sunglasses.

"Home?" Harry took Quatre's hand. Quatre nodded, making sure Trowa had Harry's book and headed toward the car. Harry smiled at his cousin, then snuggled into the seat, falling alseep on the way home. Trowa smiled gently at his sleeping cousin. Hopefully this would make Harry more comfortable with them, and help him understand he wasn't going anywhere.

Trowa didn't want to admit it, but having Harry act up would be a welcome change from him always doing what they said, because it would mean they'd gotten one step further to him becoming a "normal" child. In so far as Harry could be. He might regret thinking it after Harry started acting up, but right now. . . it would be a very welcome change.  
**oOooOo  
**  
"We're home!" Trowa called as the trio stepped inside, watching Harry kick off his shoes and sprint down the hall.

"Be careful," Quatre called in reminder as Harry skidded a little in his socked feet, though it hardly slowed the boy. The two exchanged looks and rolled their eyes. Harry was certainly picking up a lot of their mannerisms fast.

"Hiiro! I have new books! Hiiro, can we cook out of them?"

"Woah, kiddo," Duo caught Harry, tossing him and making him laugh. "Take a breath, kid."

"But I flipped through in the car and I found something I want to try, and Hiiro said I could pick something to make," Harry protested, squirming in Duo's arms. "Oh, and we got new books for everyone else too. But Trowa couldn't find Wu Fei's book, and they wouldn't tell me what happened to the old one, just that you had it."

"It's a long story," Duo put him down and scowled at Zechs, who was snickering quietly into his hand.

"What did you bring us, Harry?" Zechs knelt smoothly, and Harry launched himself at the tall man with a grin.

"I got books! And the doctor and dentist gave me stickers, and Trowa juggled and Duo made balloon animals and it was sooo cool! I didn't know Trowa could juggle and he had, like, eight beanbags all at once!" Harry continued to babble, starting over when Wu Fei appeared a few moments lauter, laughing softly at Harry's excitement.

"How did the visits go?" Hiiro's soft comment made Trowa frown.

"Well enough. No real worries." The look on Trowa's face clearly indicated that they would talk more after Harry was in bed for the night.

"Ready to make supper, Harry?" Hiiro held out a hand.

"Yeah! Here, I wanted to try this. . ." Harry followed the Japanese teen into the kitchen, pointing to something in one of the books and letting Hiiro look it over.

Trowa sighed, sitting down. The stress of the day had worn him out. He had been so worried that he would hear something was seriously wrong with Harry because of the Dursleys. It was such a relief to hear that Harry would be fine. Physically, at least. It was also a relief to know that the only thing that was really wrong with him was only cosmetic. The Dursley's hadn't damaged him entirely.

Trowa didn't think anyone outside the pilots could cause him to worry so much.  
**oOooOo**


	13. Play Therapy

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Thirteen  
Play Therapy

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own either series. But I would like them for my birthday!

**Warnings: **Cuteness, sap, cavities. . . not much else.

**Pairings:** 1x2, 3x4, 5x6

**Author's Note:** Sorry about the long wait, everyone! Life got crazy crazy! I'm moved into my new apartment with my two roommates and hopefully life will be good. It's going to be interesting, that's for sure! But I'm pretty excited about it all the same. A lot of you are worried about me abandoning this story. Please don't be. I swear I won't, I have big plans and, honestly, I love this story. The concept is still something very new for most people, including me, since I don't think there's another like it on , and I've looked pretty hard for one. Usually Harry is older when he meets his new "family" and I never like the dynamic as well. Which was really a major reason I choose a younger Harry. I think it's more fun.

_To KuailongKit:_ Harry has never really had a chance to read, and all children no matter the age like being read to. Dr. Suess is great for reading out loud, which was the idea the book was chosen. As for Redwall being a children's book. . . imagine my surprise when I went to find it at the book store and was shown to the adult section! While the concept is one children can follow, the book is actually an adult book. And don't get me wrong, Harry has other books than Dr. Seuss, but I mentioned it specifially because I knew most of my readers would know who it was.

_To Lady Saya:_ Zechs is officially designated pilot 06, and Harry will never have a number designation for a Gundam.

_To everyone:_ Thank you all so much for the reviews! I'm glad you're still itnerested after this long, and it's so nice to read them all and know you're waiting impatiently for the next chapter. I will admit, some days that really makes my fingers itch for the keyboard. _Sigh_ I wish I was a professional author. Well, that's on my to-do list! Until I get paid for writing, though, I will stick with this.

I do have one last favor. . .

Please enjoy part thirteen!  
**oOooOo**

Harry spent most of Wednesday and Thursday outside, playing in the fresh snowfall that appeared and falling down the front steps at the school and taking Lance and Ali down with him. No one was hurt, but Duo had seen the entire thing, and spent the car-ride home gently needling Harry about it in good humor.

Harry got him back when Wu Fei drew a beard on Duo in blue marker while he was "resting" and Trowa was glad Harry was comfortable enough to joke with his "big brothers."

The child was not so happy on Thursday, however. "Remember, Harry, after school we're going to go talk to a councilor," Quatre reminded Harry, since he was taking him to school. "You'll be alone this session, so they can get to know you, but Trowa and the rest of us will be with you next session."

"Why do we have to go talk to someone?" Harry tilted his head, genuinely curious.

"We're as unused to having family as you are. We're hoping a new set of eyes will help out," Quatre grinned. He didn't add that Harry probably had some left over scars from the Dursleys and they were hoping to find them before things grew worse. Knowing what Harry had gone through and being able to help him when it happened, would make them all happier in the longer run.

"All right," Harry sighed, like it was a chore to go talk to someone, and obediently left the car when Quatre stopped at the school. Trowa would take him to the clinic that afternoon, but would then leave to head across the street until Harry's session was over. The therapist felt it would be better for Harry not to rely on Trowa the entire time.

Harry pouted a bit about the appointment to Lance and Ali, but didn't complain to his cousin as they went. Trowa, who had some counseling before they'd given up on him, knew little about it. He'd been trained to appear "normal" and didn't mesh well with the last therapist. Harry, finally checked in, gave Trowa one last hug before sitting down to wait a few minutes before he was called back.

"Good afternoon, young man," The therapist was older, and looked like he should have been retired ages ago.

"Hello, sir," Harry sat down, watching the man take a few notes. The office was really, really boring and bland, and Harry didn't want to stay there.

"So you've just come into custody of the Gundam Pilots? Do they treat you well?"

"Yes, sir." Harry didn't continue, just watched the man scribble and ignore him. He didn't even know his name, and Harry was getting really, really uncomfortable. "Am I in trouble?"

"Of course not. We're just here to talk some. Now, I want you to know that everything you tell me is confidential, all right? There are only a few things I could tell other people, but what you tell me here mostly stays here." The doctor handed him some forms, and Harry frowned, attempting to read them and giving up after a few lines. The print was really small and gave him a headache. Plus he didn't understand most of the words.

'What's this?"

"Just some forms. You need to sign them."

"But I can't read them." Harry knew not to sign anything he hadn't read. Quatre had warned him about that, especially with what he did to the Dursleys!

"That's all right, Trowa said it was okay."

"He did?"

"Of course he did. Now, you need to sign right there and then it'll be fine. You wouldn't want to disappoint Trowa, would you?"

Harry shook his head. Trowa was really nice! But Quatre had said not to sign things if he couldn't read them or have someone he trusted help, so he didn't want to sign the papers. And Trowa hadn't said anything to him, but the doctor should know what he was talking about, right?

"Hurry up," The doctor barked, and Harry bit back a sniffle.

"I don't want to!" Harry shouted, throwing down the pen. "Quatre said not to sign things if I couldn't read them and I don't want to sign them because Trowa didn't say anything to me! He said I could ask him first, so I'm going to!"

"You little brat--"

"Go away!" Harry jumped to his feet, and the doctor almost seemed frozen in his chair as Harry ran out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Wiping his eyes furiously, he ran headlong into a pretty woman with the same new-penny colored hair as his mother. Harry stared at her for a moment, eyes wide, and then burst into tears.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" The woman gathered him up, rocking him gently. "Why are you crying? Did Dr. Devon hurt you?"

"I dis--disapp-ppointed T-Trowa!" Harry wailed, clinging to her. "I didn't want to sign the papers, and Trowa's not here to ask, and I wanted to ask but the doctor yelled at me, so Trowa'll be mad!"

"Where is Trowa?"

"He's in the cafe. The doctor didn't want him in the waiting room so I could talk to him, but I want Trowa!" Harry wiped away his tears and sniffed.

"That's fine. My office is right here. Why don't we go in so you can blow your nose, and I have a sink and we can wash you up, and I'll have the front desk call your cousin, is that okay?" The woman smiled gently at him.

"O-Okay. What's your name?"

"I'm Jennifer Reece, but you can just call me Dr. Reece. Is that all right?" Her smile was kind, and her dark, blue eyes were good natured. Harry gave a little nod. She was small, may be an inch under Quatre's height, with her new-penny hair cut in a short bob. Harry gave a smile in return, and Dr. Reece offered her hand while she led Harry to her office, handing him a tissue before running cool water over a paper towel and wiping his face. She wet another one to lay on the back of his neck, and let him get a bottle of water from the small fridge.

"Better, sweetie?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, sipping at the water. Her office was nothing like the man's, painted a soft, sky blue at the top and a deep chocolate at the bottom. Calming paintings littered the walls and a large window was open to catch the afternoon sun. A small desk and filing cabinet sat near the sink and fridge, and the rest of the room was open, holding a couch, a couple of chairs, and a small table, as well as a wooden toy chest. Cupboards along one wall, lightly stained oak with plexi-glass in the front housed art supplies.

"Do you have a name, sweetie?" Dr. Reece smiled gently at him.

"I'm Harry Potter," The child put the lid back on the bottle. "And my cousin is Trowa Barton. Can you call him?"

"I'll tell the secretary do it right away, all right? And you can play with the toys until he gets here. Is that all right?"

Harry nodded, moving cautiously to the toy chest. "C--can I draw?"

"Of course," Dr. Reece pulled open the cupboard, letting Harry pull out some paper and crayons. Harry looked at her hesitantly, and Dr. Reece gave a small smile, telling Harry to sit where he wanted. Harry nodded, sitting in the corner by the window, and Dr. Reece winked at him, then picked up the phone and told the secretary to call Trowa, and to send the teen to her office when he arrived.

"Thank you for letting me draw," Harry whispered, coloring diligently. Dr. Reece knelt next to him.

"May I join you?"

"Uh huh," Harry shoved some crayons in her direction, and Dr. Reece moved to grab a sketchbook of her own. Harry glanced at her, and then returned to his picture, his eyes flicking in her direction every now and then. His picture took up most of the page, obviously his family. Dr. Reece seemed to ignore him, coloring on her own sheet.

"What are you drawing?" She set her pad on the floor, letting Harry see her drawing. It was very pretty; a picture of a flower, and Harry really liked it.

"I'm drawing my family." Harry held it up to show her. Six figures took up most of the picture, and Dr. Reece had to look very carefully for Harry, finding a tiny likeness of him in the background.

"You're so tiny," Dr. Reece smiled.

"I'm very small," Harry explained. "So I stay out of the way good."

"Do you? Is it important you stay out of the way?"

"Well, not now, but it was before Trowa. Trowa lets me play with other kids and stuff, and I really like it. And he doesn't make me do all the chores and stuff."

"So you like living with Trowa. What about where you lived before?"

"They were mean." Harry frowned, slashing the black crayon across his picture. "I don't like them. Trowa said they shouldn't have treated me that way. I don't know. Maybe they should have. Trowa doesn't have parents, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had to take care of Dudley, and he's their real son, so maybe Trowa just doesn't know that he should be mean."

"Are you afraid he'll start being mean?"

"Well. . . I dunno." Harry ripped the sheet from the book and flipped it, starting to draw on the back. "He's really nice, and so are all his friends and I guess we're like real family. Not like me and Dudley, you know? He's more like a brother than a cousin. I guess. . . maybe cousins are supposed to be mean to each other, and Trowa will when he finds out he's doing it wrong."

"Do you think cousins are supposed to be mean?"

"Dudley was." Harry put the crayon down, staring at the page he had been scribbling on absently. "You kind of remind me of my mum."

"Oh? How do I do that?"

"You have her hair," Harry explained, tugging at his own, messy locks. "I don't remember her, because I was really little when she died, but Quatre found her picture and you have the same color hair. She had green eyes, though."

"Do you miss her?"

"Yeah. I want a mum. Like everyone else. Because then she'd be nice to me, like Aunt Petunia was to Dudley. I'd like that. And my daddy would love me, too. Sorta like Trowa, except he'd be my daddy, and not my cousin, so he couldn't change his mind and be mean to me, because he's my daddy, you know?"

"Mm hmm."

"And then we could play together and stuff too." Harry sighed. "I don't even know what he looks like. I mean, like me, I guess cause I don't look lots like Mum, but Quatre couldn't find his picture and Aunt Petunia didn't like it when I asked. She didn't have any, anyway. But I want to know what he looks like. I shouldn't, because Aunt Petunia says he was a lazy drunkard, but I don't want him to be like that."

"What do you think he was like?"

"I bet he was really cool. Like superman or something." Harry frowned. "He'd love me lots and lots, and he and Mum would be just perfect, and she'd bake cookies for me, like on the telly, and she'd buy me toys, like Aunt Petunia did for Dudley, and Dad would play football with me, or basketball, or something, and he'd teach me to swim and. . . and. . . all sorts of stuff. And he'd read to me at night, like Trowa does. And he wouldn't bet mad at me for reading books."

A sudden knock on the door made them both start, and Dr. Reece gave Harry a tiny smile. "I guess we should pay attention, shouldn't we."

"Yeah," Harry giggled. "You think that's Trowa?"

"Probably," Dr. Reece pulled the door open and stepped to one side to invite Trowa into the room. Trowa introduced himself, and smiled, seeing Harry still sitting by the window. "Harry, Trowa's here."

"I know," Harry didn't look up. "I just wanted to finish a picture for you." He finished and pulled it out of the book, waving it at her. "See? It's for you, because you let me stay here while I was waiting for Trowa. I didn't like the waiting room."

"Oh, well, thank you." Dr. Reece took it, and frowned. "You didn't put your name on it for me. Will you do that?"

"Sure," Harry pulled out a crayon and scribbled his name on it, then handed it back and put everything away. Dr. Reece watched him, blue eyes sharp, but kind. Trowa glanced at her.

"Why is he in here and not with Dr. Devon?"

"I'm not sure; I think he ran out of Dr. Devon's room, but he was crying and wanted you. . . I'm not sure why Dr. Devon made you leave if he's so dependent on you. I don't like that. Anyway, Harry was crying so I thought I'd calm him down, let him draw. We had a very nice conversation." Dr. Reece smiled and took the picture back from Harry and set it on her desk.

"Do you like it?" Harry smiled.

"I do," Dr. Reece ruffled his hair. "I'll put it on my fridge at home, all right?"

"Okay!" Harry grinned at her, his green eyes so bright. "Will I get to come back?"

"Maybe. Why don't all three of us sit down and you can tell Trowa why you ran away from Dr. Devon before you leave, just in case Trowa wants to go talk to him."

"I didn't want to sign the paper," Harry frowned. "I couldn't read it, and Quatre said not to sign anything I couldn't read, and then he tried to make me sign it. I told him no, and he said you told him to have me sign it, but you weren't there for me to ask and I wanted to ask first, so I didn't sign it." Harry crossed his arms. "And then he told me to hurry up and sign them, but I said I didn't want to and ran away and ran into Dr. Reece."

Trowa nodded, considering. "Why don't we go talk to Dr. Devon and you can let me see the papers. How's that?"

"Okay," Harry agreed, waving to Dr. Reece and following Trowa from the room. Trowa wasn't sure whether or not he should be angry at Dr. Devon, choosing to withhold judgment until they'd at least spoken about the paperwork Harry had been supposed to sign. Pausing at the man's door, Trowa glanced at his cousin when Harry timidly took his hand. It seemed the child didn't like Dr. Devon much after all.

Harry started when Torwa knocked on the door and practically dove behind Trowa when it opened. Trowa frowned softly. "I'm with a client," Dr. Devon frowned at Trowa. "If you'll return in a little while, we can talk about the boy then."

Trowa looked at him, then frowned. "I don't think so. Thank you. If we have further need of your services, we'll call." With that, Trowa swept Harry into his arms and stalked down the hallway.

"I don't like him," Harry admited. "Will I have to see him again?"

"No. What about Dr. Reece? Would you talk to her again?"

"Yeah!" Harry looked up. "She was really, really nice. Do you think she'd let me?"

"We'll have to see. Her client list might already be too long, but we can always ask, right?" Trowa smiled. He didn't want to get Harry's hopes too high, but Harry had really seemed taken with Dr. Reece.

"All right," Harry frowned. "Do you think she'll want to talk to me again?"

"I'm sure she will," Trowa pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead, letting the boy snuggle into his shoulder. He probably shouldn't carry Harry so much, but it was hard not to pick him up and comfort him when he looked frightened or sad. And he knew well enough that Harry had never had comfort like that before. Trowa almost sighed. He didn't want to spoil Harry or make the boy fully dependent on him, but Harry needed the comfort. The aftermath. . . well, that came later.  
**oOooOo**

"How did it go?" Quatre met Trowa at the door, claiming a quick kiss. "Inquiring minds want to know."

"Dr. Devon's mean," Harry announced. "But Dr. Reece is nice!"

"Is she?" Trowa had texted her name to Quate for some research. "That's good to know."

"Uh huh. I want to talk to her again. Trowa said maybe I could talk to her instead of Dr. Meanie." Harry stared at the floor. "I didn't like him."

"That's all right," Quatre shooed Harry down the hall and smiled when he heard the boy squeal out something to Wu Fei. "So, how did it go, really?"

"Dr. Devon is not my choice to go to. He might be top in his field, but he's not good with children at all." Trowa sighed. "He was very rude as well. I found Dr. Reece much nicer, and Harry really liked her. What did you find out?"

"Dr. Reece doesn't really have much of a name for herself, but all the reviews she's gotten are good." Quatre shrugged. "I figured that since Dr. Devon was a leader in his field, he'd be good for Harry. But there's obviously a trust issue. . ."

"Well, as long as Dr. Reece has gotten good reviews, I see no reason Harry couldn't continue to see her." Trowa considered the thought. "He seemed to like her, and they do say the client-counselor relationship needs to be good."

"That's true. I'll call and see if she won't take him on, and when we can schedule his sessions," Quatre pulled his phone out and started making calls, leaving Trowa to go do damage control when Harry finished telling the others about his visit to the therapist. Zechs and Wu Fei both looked murderous, and the only reason Harry didn't know was because he was looking at Duo and waving his arms around while he spoke. Hiiro also looked homicidal, but he was much better at hiding it from Harry.

"He is not going back to Dr. Devon," Wu Fei growled, and Trowa shook his head.

"No. Quatre is making arrangements for him to see Dr. Reece on a regular basis." Trowa plopped down in a chair, and Harry looked at him uncertainly for a moment. Absently, Trowa patted his lap and Harry jumped on him, snuggling into him. Harry just loved to hug people and be cuddled and sit on their laps and was highly affectionate, but only if invited. He would never do things without an indication that it was safe.

The Gundam pilots had grown conscious about that in the last week, and it was surprising how quickly they'd grown into the habits. They could tell when Harry wanted to hug them or hold their hands, or whatever, and had small, unobtrusive signals they offered to him to tell him it was all right. Dangling their arm in reach and flexing their fingers so he knew he could grab their hands, patting a leg so he knew he could sit on their lap, or a hip so he'd know they'd care him if he wished, the posture of their body to invite him to hug them, or a tilt of the face for him to give a kiss.

And Harry usually did. Happy and without abandon. He snuggled and cuddled and clung and enjoyed every moment of it. He'd never been paid any mind to at the Dursleys, and now he was more than happy to have the attention. Snuggling into Trowa, Harry listened as the adults of the house caught up on the news and gave a contented sigh. Hiiro smiled at the boy, but didn't have the heart to pry him off Trowa when he moved to make supper, and Harry, draped over his cousin, slept for part of the afternoon, warm and safe.  
**oOooOo**

Harry's next session, a week after his first, was met with a little trepidation and a lot of excitement. He liked Dr. Reece, and he really wanted to see her again, but he was still nervous about the counseling session. Most kids he knew didn't have counselors or anything, and some of them had teased him a little when Harry told them about Dr. Reece. It wasn't mean teasing, but Harry didn't like being teased because Dudley had done it all the time. He hated being teased by Dudley, because that had been really mean, so it made him nervous about being teased by everyone else, too.

What was weirder (at least Harry thought it was weird) was that Dr. Reece had made this session extra long and told Harry and Trowa, and all the pilots to come. But Harry was sort of looking forward to it, too. Because he liked his family and he really didn't mind them being there. He didn't think he could talk to Dr. Reece for a whole hour, all by himself.

"Harry!" Trowa's call made him jump, and the child rushed to the SUV and settled between Quatre and Wu Fei in the back.

"Did you have a good day?" Wu Fei's smile made Harry feel special.

"Uh huh." He launched into telling them about sharing his lunch with Ali again, and how Lance had gotten some new mobile dolls and they'd buried them in the playground and lost them by accident, and how Miss Grace had a mock spelling bee in class and that Harry's team had won because Harry had beaten a girl because he spelled his word right and she didn't.

"Sounds like you had fun," Trowa glanced back for a moment to smile at him, then looked quickly back to the road.

"Lots and lots," Harry agreed. "It was so cool, too! And now I can talk to Dr. Reece, too. Do you know why all of you are coming?"

"Well, we were all going to come to some of the sessions anyway," Quatre explained, shrugging.

"But why? You don't have to become un-freakish like me," Harry looked confused.

"You're not going to see Dr. Reece because you're a freak, Harry. Just like we're not. We're all going together because a lot of us aren't used to have a real family, so we're going so we can learn to be one," Duo frowned at Harry's declaration of being a freak. There was no reason a child Harry's age should think, with such conviction, he was a freak in the first place.

Harry pondered Duo's answer, grabbing Quatre's hand and following Trowa up the stairs. Dr. Reece was on the third floor, and they could have taken the elevator, but the stairs were more fun. The receptionist glanced up in time to see them, and grinned. "You have perfect timing. Head on back, her last client just came out."

"Great!" Tossed her a wink, and gave a tiny yelp when Hiiro grabbed his braid and walked toward the door, pulling Duo along behind. "Hii-chan! Ouch! That's my hair! Hii-chan! Hii-chan!" Duo whined and tugged futilly at his poor hair while Harry and Quatre snickered helplessly at the sight.

Dr. Reece poked her head out the door to see the commotion in the hall and blinked at the two before letting the seven into the room. "Good afternoon?"

"You bet!" Duo grinned at her, stroking his braid lovingly as Hiiro released it, wrapping his arms around his stoic lover. "Hii-chan just does that because he loves me."

The other four pilots rolled their eyes in exasperation and Harry just giggled a little more. "I see." Dr. Reece managed not to laugh outright. "That's very nice, then. How about we all take a seat? I want to go over a few things before we get started. There is some paperwork we need to fill out, and I want to talk about the goals you have for your family, and then we can go from there. How does that sound to all of you?"

They group shrugged, settling into the offered chairs. Harry plopped onto Trowa's lap, watching with interest. Dr. Reece handed out the paperwork, explaining each of the forms and waiting while they filled in the blanks and signed and allowed the young men to help Harry, rather than offering to do so herself. This would give them a chance to learn they could trust her. Harry was obedient, and Dr. Reece was almost concerned with the level on compliancy Harry was showing. He had been just as compliant last time, too.

"Now what?" Wu Fei offered her the collected papers, and Dr. Reece looked them over.

"You said you wanted family therapy?" Dr. Reece had gotten the file from Dr. Devon and looked it over, unhappy at how general the information had been. "Can you tell me anything a little more specific?"

"Well, we're new to this, most of us," Trowa shrugged. "I've never really had family before and neither has Hiiro. We don't really know how to make a family."

Dr. Reece nodded, making a note in her legal pad, and looked at Harry. "What about you? What do you want here?"

"I just want Trowa to keep me, and you'll teach me to be good so Trowa won't take me to the Dursleys, right?" Harry's look was absolutely heartbreaking in its earnestness.

Dr. Reece smiled at him, making another note. "We'll come back to that, all right? Harry, I want you to do something for me, okay?"

Harry blinked at her, but nodded, leaning forward. "You're going to use this whole room, and make me a family portrait, okay?" Dr. Reece smiled at him.

"A family portrait?" Harry frowned a little.

"Yup. First we're going to pretend and make one with the Dursleys, and then we're going to make one with your new family. Is that okay?" Dr. Reece ignored the others, watching Harry only. Harry gave a slightly hesitent nod, looking at Trowa, then back to Dr. Reece.

"How do I do it without a camera?"

"We're going to pretend Zechs is Vernon, and that Duo is Petunia, and Hiiro is Dudley. Is that okay?"

"But they'll be mad!" Harry protested, looking terrified.

"Why don't you ask them and check?" Dr. Reece encouraged. "I don't think they will, because it's just pretend. Not real life."

"You'll be mad, right?" Harry looked at them, almost desperately. "Because you're not them!"

"Harry, listen," Zechs put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "We aren't going to be mad, and we aren't going to act like them. You're just going to pretend we're the Durselys long enough to turn us into a portrait, okay?"

Harry considered that for a moment, then nodded. "If they're not going to be mad."

"No, this is just pretend. Will you do that for me?" Dr. Reece told everyone to stand up, and directed everyone but Harry, Zechs, Duo, and Hiiro towards one side of the room. "Whatever you want to do to make it real, okay?" Dr. Reece told him. "If you want anything from the cupboards or anything you can use it. And you're going to do a poritrait of the Dursleys and you. Ready? Go!"

Trowa had never seen Harry go wild before, but he did this time. Dr. Reece had earned at least some of his trust the last visit, and it was nice to know that the boy still had trust to give. Her words seemed to give him the bravery to begin what he was doing.

Harry led Hiiro--who was pretending to be Dudley--to the middle of the room and plopped him down, telling him to pout and then spread toys all around him. Hiiro, following Harry's instructions, crossed his arms and pouted, though he couldn't hide the curiousity in his eyes when Harry dumped toys around him, strewing them around the room as though Hiiro had thrown them away from him. Taking Zechs' hand, Harry led him over to Hiiro, putting a hand on Hiiro's head in an affectionate gesture. Hiiro forced himself to stay relaxed, and Harry dragged Duo over, having him kneel by Hiiro with his arms around Hiiro's shoulders. Zechs' other arm was draped around Duo, and Harry looked it over for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."

"You're not in it, Harry," Dr. Reece pointed out, gently. "You're supposed to show where you belong."

Harry blinked at her, then moved a chair to the far corner of the room and hid behind it, curling up in a little ball. "I'm not allowed to be in the picture," Harry explained, poking his head out.

"Okay, now I want you to add Trowa to the picture," Dr. Reece told him, making several notes on her pad. Harry nodded, grabbing Trowa's hand and leading him to another corner, in plain sight, and took his hand, hiding behind him.

"Like this." Harry announced.

Dr. Reece nodded again. "So this time you're allowed not to be hidden."

"Trowa will protect me. But I don't want to get close to the Dursleys, because they're still mean," Harry explained. "So I stay behind Trowa because he protects me. So I can be in the picture now, because Trowa will protect me, but I don't want to be close to them."

"I see." Dr. Reece put the pad down after making one more note. "Now I want you to make a new picture with you in your new family."

"Okay!" Harry looked at the floor. "I got to put the toys away first."

"We can all get it done very fast," Duo told him, grabbing several of the toys and putting them away. The others followed, and even Dr. Reece grabbed a few. It was the work of a moment before the toys were picked up, and Harry led the teens to the middle of the room. He started by having them snuggled up to each other, Hiiro tucked under Duo's chin, Wu Fei under Zechs' and Quatre under Trowa's. Trowa had a free hand that Harry had latched onto, and the boy was snuggled up to Trowa's back, little hands clutching his shirt, one of Quatre's arms also around Harry to form a bit of a group hug. The other four were close enough to help hide Harry's tiny frame, standing near him protectively, a hand from both Wu Fei and Hiiro gripping his shirt protectively. Duo's and Zechs's hands were casually laid around his shoulders, very protective gestures.

Dr. Reece nodded, telling them to take their seats and managing to glance at the clock to make sure they'd have time to discuss what had happened. "Is it all right if I ask you some questions, Harry?" Dr. Reece pulled out paper and crayons for all of them and gestured to the small coffee table. She was startled when all six of them sat seiza-style at the table, allowing Harry and Dr. Reece to take the tiny, child-sized chairs. Hiiro and Duo flanked Dr. Reece while Zechs and Wu Fei sat at the ends, ever watchful, and Trowa and Quatre were on either side of Harry. It seemed so natural, for them to sit that way.

"What did you want to ask?" Harry began to draw Lance and Ali and the Gundams.

"When you made the portrait of the Dursleys, why did you start out in the corner?"

"I'm not allowed to be in the picture."

"Is there a reason?"

"Because I'm a freak," Harry explained. "So I have to be quiet and stay out of sight. They don't like to think about me."

"I see. And what about after Trowa was put in the picture? Was there a reason you were hiding behind him?"

"Trowa was protecting me!" Harry grinned, adding some lasers to his picture. "And he wouldn't let the Dursleys put me in the cupboard no more, and he made sure I didn't get hurt. And then he took me away from them!"

"That's really good. What about after you were showing me your new family picture? Why were you in the back, then?"

"Well. . . no one should see me or pay me any mind, right?" Harry looked a little confused. "So I didn't want to be a bother so Trowa would keep me, but they protect me, too, so I had to be close to them so they'd protect me."

"Good, good. Now, I'm going to talk to the others a little, okay? You can listen if you like, you may also work on your picture, ofr you may do both at once, okay? That's your choice. Do you understand?"

"Yeah." Harry kept coloring. He learned to do both at once, and he decided he'd like to keep coloring unless it was really, really interesting.

"What did you six think about Harry's portrait of the Dursleys before Trowa was there?" Dr. Reece glanced at them, ignoring her drawing.

"I hated it," Quatre scowled. "Harry should never have been treated that way! It's terrible! I don't ever want him to think we don't want him or love him, ever."

Trowa gave a small shudder. "It was. . . horrible. . . to see what they did to him. All I wanted was to hold him and never let go. They'd put him in a cupboard because they didn't want to give up a bedroom! How could I leave him to that?"

Duo just clentched his jaw and turned away. Dr. Reece noticed, but said nothing, for the moment. Wu Fei and Zechs both had looks on their faces that clearly stated what they thought about the matter and what they wanted to do to the Dursleys. Harry, who wasn't looking at them, had no idea what was going on over his head. "Duo?" Dr. Reece's voice was gentle. "Will you tell me what gave you that look on your face?"

Duo stared at her, surprised. "You saw?"

"I'm trained to do so," Dr. Reece pointed out, her smile still gentle. "Is there a reason for it?"

Duo gave a small shrug, glanced at Harry, then looked at Dr. Reece. "I grew up on an L2 colony. An orphan. I ran the streets until the plague, and then I was taken into an orphanage. We didn't have much, because it's L2, you know? Everyone is poor. I never really thought anything of it, because I didn't have any more than anyone else. Sister Helen did the best she could, and so did Father Maxwell. If we did without, it was because they couldn't afford it, but not for lack of trying.

"When I found out about Harry, Trowa told me about him not having toys, or a proper coat, or shoes. Then he told me all about the stuff Dudley had, and that Dursleys had. They could have bought Harry new shoes and a new coat. Dudley could have shared his toys. I mean, I was poor as a kid so at least there was a good reason I didn't have things, but the Dursleys didn't have that reason for Harry! They didn't even care about him! At least he healthy, but those b--those rats could have at least kept him properly fed and clothed!"

"You're hurt by all this," Dr. Reece nodded.

Duo shook his head, then paused, considering. "I guess so. I never thought maybe that was part of the reson I was so angry."

"There is nothing wrong with being angry, hurt, and sad because of this, Duo. Your feelings are your feelings. You don't need a reason to feel them. They don't even have to make sense. It's perfectly all right to feel a number of things toward Harry's family because they refused to give him toys or clothes or books."

"Yeah, I know that, Doc. Thanks." Duo grinned cheerfully at her, and Dr. Reece couldn't help but smile in reply.

"They aren't, you know." Wu Fei spoke suddenly.

Dr. Reece blinked. "Who aren't what?"

"The Dursleys. They aren't Harry's family, you know." Wu Fei nodded, as though agreeing with himself on something. "We are, now. Harry is as much my brother as Trowa's."

"I thought they were cousins?"

"Only by blood. We have a lot of chosen family." Quatre explained. "Trowa has a sister that he just sort of picked up with. Well, she's more like a sister to all of us. Not that I needed more, but you know."

"Ah, yes, with twenty-nine of your own, right Mr. Winner?" Dr. Reece was smiling, her light teasing apparent, and Quatre laughed, nodding.

"I guess it's twenty-nine and a sister-in-law now," Quatre giggled. "Serves me right. Well, at least I have brothers."

"Family is very, very important," Dr. Reece agreed. "So you consider Harry your brother? Who is his actual guardian that will be making all the rules?" She noticed Harry's little head perk up at them mention of that.

"Well, Quatre and Wu Fei said that in their families it was always a very joint effort. The parents made the rules together and they were enforced the same way, you know? Mother never said one thing and let Father say another. We think that we will be able to manage that, if we work together." Trowa chewed his lip. "So we all agreed on rules and punishments. It will be. . . a partnership. Like we've always had, I guess."

"You're very used to those dynamics. All of you equal to the others." Dr. Reece summarized, and the pilots nodded. They'd never considered themselves anything but partners. Sure, each of them had been the leader when their expertise was needed, but never had they ever been unequal.

The session continued in in that vein for a time, with Dr. Reece taking notes, and about three quarters of the way through the session, she stopped to look over her notes. "I think we need to set some goals, here. From the looks of things, you really need some help with the family system. You're not entirely sure how to have a family, since only a few of you have ever had a traditional family or rules. That is, I think the most important thing. Having a stable family leads to trust and affection, just as trust and affection lead to a stable family unit. So we'll be working on them all at once."

Hiiro looked a little dubious about that. "That's not very concrete. How will we know when it's achieved?"

"That is where we set goals to get to along the way." Dr. Reece smirked at him a little, and Duo wrinkled his nose in a tiny laugh. "We'll make a comprehensive list next time, but it is first important to see how much you already appreciate each other. Our first goal will be about appreciation. I want you to learn to apprciate each other as brothers, not just friends and comrades. And this all leads us to. . . homework!"

The boys all stared at her. "You sound far to cheery for giving us homework. Were you a sadistic teacher in a past life?"

"I'll have you know people like my homework assignments," Dr. Reece liked the boys, who enjoyed teasing her and didn't mind her light teasing in reply. "Now, starting after this session and going until the next one, I want you to privately take notice of the little things the people in your family do for you that you appreciate. Don't share, though. We'll share together next session, all right?"

"Anything else?" Trowa stood, holding out a hand for Harry.

"Yes. I would like you to get in the habit of keeping a journal. We will be using the technique more a little later, but I'd like you to start getting in the habit now, if you don't mind." Dr. Reece also stood. "It's been nice having you."

"I really like you," Harry announced, grinning at her. "You're nice."

"Well, thank you." Dr. Reece bent so Harry could hug her, and then smiled at the others. "Now, you have your assignments, and all the paperwork you need to take with you, and we can make an appointment really quickly right now, so I can phone the front desk. . ." She grabbed her planner, flipping it open. "I have this time next week."

Trowa glanced at the others, who shrugged. "That's fine."

"Good, good. I'll mark you in and we'll have everything all arranged. It was very nice to meet you, today." Dr. Reece opened the door for them, smiling as they left.

"I think I like her," Duo commented, grinning. "Good pick, Harry."

"Thank you, Duo," Harry blushed a little. "I liked her too. She's got Mummy's hair."

"I did notice that," Trowa agreed. "It's a very pretty color."

"Uh huh," Harry giggled a little bit, suddenly throwing his arms around Trowa and hugging him tightly. Trowa half-started since he hadn't been expecting it but had known it was Harry and hugged the child in reply. Maybe they really could have a family. Maybe this really could work out. Dr. Reece had certianly thought so, and so had everyone else Trowa had spoken with. Smiling at the hug, Trowa had to believe them. Even with their pasts, maybe they really could make a family.  
**oOooOo**


	14. Queen of the World

Flight of the Bumblebee  
Part Fourteen  
Queen of the World

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Gundam Wing. Even though I wish I did. Then again. . . it's probably for the best.

**Warnings:** Girliness (It is Relena, after all), shounen ai, general cuteness and sap, and magic.

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the delay, guys. I work for a non-profit, which should tell you something, and we moved our offices, so we've been really, really busy. I have the week off, so I'll see what I can do about getting another chapter up this week, but I make no promises. I will also try to post more often this winter. Hopefully I'll have a couple of months of semi-downtime.

Also, the scene about Bath? Part of it is a real-to-life scene. My brother and I went and tried the water. Quatre's comment about it was something I actually told him. And yes, Harry is serious about the taste, too.

_Servant of Nature and Serenity Moon2:_ Harry was always a wizard, of course, but this story will not progress to Hogwarts. Odds are good that there will be a sequal, though, because I think I might get lynched if there wasn't.

_Hikaru Kosuzaku:_ I love cherries, so I'd do lots of things for them. Updating is one of them, apparently.

_Hocapontas:_ No Remus this story, sorry. That would be left for the sequal. I have to have _some_ surprises left, after all.

_Chite:_ I'm glad I got the therapy session right, having never been to one! I have a minor in Psychology, so had to learn something and that I managed a therapy session makes me proud. What's funny is that Dr. Reece came about from a class exercise to imagine a therapist. She was mine, which probably speaks to my mental state (hee hee), but I'm still glad that scene turned out so well!

_Kim and everyone commenting on the note about guns:_ I just think its stupid that fic authors tend to be negligent about firearms. A little knowledge goes a long way! I grew up around guns (my dad's side of the family are all farmers), but I know a lot of people that have never touched a gun in their lives. I don't want people to get the wrong idea about guns, and I have a feeling the Gundam Pilots would push a lot for gun safety. Maybe more people will mention it when they write about firearms and people will stop doing careless things with them. Or just obey rule one (don't point a firearm--loaded or not--at anyone you don't plan to shoot.)

_SocialMisfitNumber86:_ Interesting name, BTW. Dr. Devon is a random jerk. If he shows up again it'll be so Trowa can beat him into next week.

_To everyone that reviewed:_ Thank you for the reviews! They make me warm and fuzzy inside!--and that randomly reminded me of The Dark Knight where Joker puts the bomb in that one dude and he's all, "and he said he'd replace all my insides with _light_!" Yeah, I've been playing Arkham Asylum and am on a Batman kick. Sorry. Anyway, thank you for all the reviews and I hope you'll all do me one more favor. . .

Enjoy the chapter!**  
oOooOo**

Friday morning was spent at school where Harry told Ali and Lance all about therapy and ended up sitting on the playground pretending to "see a therapist." Trowa hadn't understood it, but apparently the three had fun so he decided not to question it. If Harry wanted to tell his friends all about Dr. Reece, then he could tell his friends all about Dr. Reece. "Don't forget Relena, Dorothy, and Noin are coming for the weekend," Trowa reminded his cousin, watching Harry bounce around the car for a moment before calming down and staring out the window. "They'll be here for supper."

"I know. I'm really excited. Dudley said you were lying when you said you knew her, but I knew you didn't. And now I get to meet her! Ali and Lance thought it was super cool, that Quatre knew Miss Relena and everything, and that I get to meet them."

"Did they, now?" Trowa wondered if two nine year olds would be considered security threats, but decided that the six of them would be able to handle it.

"Yeah. And Lance was really jealous because he said Miss Relena's very pretty." Harry made a bit of a face. "But girls are so yucky!"

"That doesn't mean they aren't pretty. And Relena is very pretty."

"Prettier than Quatre?" Harry grinned, following Trowa into the house. "Because Quatre's awfully pretty."

"Boys aren't pretty, Harry," Trowa scolded playfully, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, but Quatre might as well be a girl. He acts like one," Harry reminded him, and Trowa heard Duo snort somewhere down the hall way. The teen winced. Duo overhearing Harry's remark probably wouldn't end well.

"We're home!" Trowa called, heading towards the living room with Harry. "When is Relena getting here?"

"Two hours," Hiiro answered, hanging up the phone. "She just called me. Noin has her traveling incognito for the trip, so she wanted to show off her outfit."

"Dare I ask what it was?"

"Duo's idea." Hiiro grunted, rolling his eyes. "She's got her hair in pig tails and is currently wearing overalls."

"You're kidding me."

"Une even got her fake papers." Hiiro wasn't kidding, and he didn't look happy about his "sister" traveling without an armed guard. Not that Noin and Dorothy wouldn't be able to take care of anyone that tried to hurt her, but Hiiro was a little overprotective (not that he would ever admit it). "She was thrilled."

"Well, if her current job doesn't work out, she's a shoo in for a farm," Duo's grin was obvious, even through he was shouting down the stairs. "Q-bean! I need those papers from that scrap we got last week! That damn brat. . . what's-his-name. . . oh, Gregory Junior, he's having a bitch fit!"

"So let him have a bitch fit!" Quatre shouted back. "I can't even find the paperwork I did Monday! It's buried on my desk somewhere!"

"Yui!" Wu Fei screamed, and something clattered down the stairs. "Come get Maxwell before he blows up the damn house!" The Chinese man was obviously somewhat irate with Hiiro's American lover.

"_Barton_!" The chours by both Zechs and Quatre made the teen sigh and look at Harry, who giggled and shrugged. Another chaotic day in the Gundam household, apparently.

"What didn't I do this time?"

"_Papers_!" Quatre screamed, and Zechs gave a shout following closely behind while Harry and Trowa sprinted up the steps in time to see two blonds buried under a few mountains of paperwork. Surverying the mess, Quatre promptly broke into tears. It had taken him hours to clean up the paperwork before, and now he wasn't just at square one, he was standing in the midst of ground zero.

Harry hugged Quatre tightly. "I'll clean it up," Harry offered. "I'm really good at it."

"It's not your fault, green eyes," Quatre rubbed his temples after wiping his eyes. He was so stressed out that having his paperwork collapse on him had been the final straw. "I'll get it."

"No," Harry told him firmly, guiding him to the couch in the office while Trowa unburied Zechs. "Trowa will get you and Zechs some tea, and then I bet the rest of us can straighten this out in a jif. Just stay there. I'll be right back."

Quatre almost didn't let himself relax, but the thought of the devistated look on Harry's face if he didn't listen made him stay on the small settee along one wall. Zechs joined him moments later, and Harry reappeared with the others in tow about five mintues after that, Wu Fei and Hiiro bearing tea cups for Quatre and Zechs.

"Alphabetical or chronological?" Harry asked, picking up the first packet and glancing at it.

"Alphabetical by company. If there's more than one, then place those chronologically," Quatre breathed in the tea, forcing himself to calm. Harry gave a nod, and then started sorting through the papers with the help of the others. Neat stacks began to form, and within an hour everything had been cleaned up and put back in order. Quatre rubbed his temples, sniffing again, and hugged Harry tightly.

"Thank you, green eyes."

"You looked really, really sad," Harry explained. "I didn't want you to be sad anymore."

"You were a very big help." Quatre just let himself hold the boy, relaxing against Harry and basking in the adoration of a child. Zechs hugged Harry when Quatre finally let go, and the two returned to the paperwork moments later, digging through the piles upon piles of stuff to find what they needed. Since it was organized, it took little time to finish their work. Harry even stayed to help a little bit, fetching papers when Quatre or Zechs couldn't find them. Harry smiled. Maybe he was still useful after all.**  
oOooOo**

"Hello everyone!" A woman's voice made them all jump and spin, though the pilots recognized the voice immediately.

"Relena!" Harry got a brief look at a girl with long, golden blond hair and bright blue eyes before Zechs enveloped her in a hug. "How are you, little sister?"

Harry blinked, slightly confused. He hadn't know Zechs had a sister. Turning his attention to the other two in the doorway, he tilted his head. Relena was the smallest by a couple of inches, but the next girl looked more like Zechs, in Harry's mind. Long white blonde hair fell to her knees and ice blue eyes had a happy little spark to them. But Harry was really afraid of her strange, forked eyebrows. Diving behind Trowa, Harry grabbed his shirt and pressed his face into Trowa's back. "She's got scary eyebrows," Harry whispered, making Duo howl with laughter.

"She won't hurt you, though. Appearences can be decieving," Quatre told him, moving to greet the young woman. He called her "Dorothy," and offered her a seat on the couch.

The last woman to arrive just stepped next to Trowa and looked around to Harry. "Aren't you cute," She offered, smiling. Harry blinked up at her. She had black hair and purple eyes, though hers were darker than Duo's. "I'm Lucrezia Noin. But almost everyone calls me Noin."

"Hello, Miss Noin," Harry muttered, blushing a bit and toeing the ground. "It's nice to meet you." Zechs had talked about her a little, and from what Harry knew she was sort of like a sister to Zechs, but Harry still wasn't sure she'd like him.

"They talk about you a lot to us, you know," Noin smiled at him, kneeling down to speak to him so Harry didn't have to crane his head to her. "You're something special, you know that?"

"I'm not special," Harry protested, shaking his head. "Everyone says so."

"Then I have to disagree," Noin laughed softly. "Now, do I get a hug from someone who's almost my little brother?"

Harry blinked at her, then gave a shy, little smile and nodded, hugging her tightly. Unexpectedly Noin stood, lifting Harry with her, and the boy contented himself with settling in her arms. Trowa was near-by, so Noin wouldn't dare hurt him. "Oh, you're so sweet," Relena offered, hugging him gently. "I wish I had a cousin as cute as you! You want to come home with me and be my cute, little cousin?"

Harry shook his head, half-panicked. "I want to stay with Trowa!"

"I was teasing you, sweetie," Relena explained, making Harry smile. She was so very nice! "It's my way of saying that I think you're a very sweet boy and that I like you."

"Oh." Harry considered that, then nodded. "So you aren't _really_ going to take me away from Trowa?"

"That would be rather silly of me, since I helped him get you here in the first place." Relena laughed softly, gesturing for Noin to put the boy down so she could get a proper hug. Harry grinned. It was nice to hug Relena. She was warm and soft and she smelled good. Noin had kind of been that way, but she'd had too much muscle. He sighed softly, wondering if Relena's hug felt like his mother's. Maybe it did, and that was why it felt so nice. He liked that.

"Have you met Dorothy yet?" Relena asked, leading him to the couch. Harry shook his head, shying away from "eyebrow lady."

"Her eyebrows scare me," Harry whispered to Relena, and Relena gave a tiny smile.

"She's very nice," Relena assured him, even though Dorothy usually wasn't. But she was under orders from. . . pretty much everyone currently in the house to be kind to Harry. Harry gave her an uncertain look, then hugged her tightly. Dorothy blinked in shock, arms folding around the little boy almost of their own accord. Relena didn't bother to hide her smile. "He's so sweet."

"He's very affectionate," Quatre agreed, rising. "Now that we've all met, I think we should go downstairs. I'm hungry, and I believe Hiiro did say supper would be ready soon."

An unlady-like yowl drifted from Relena's belly, and Dorothy laughed. "Relena seems hopeful."

"Shut up, you," Relena swatted the girl playfully, following Quatre down the stairs, the others in tow. Harry stayed next to Dorothy, looking up at her for several seconds. Dorothy shifted slightly uncomfortably. Like Trowa, Harry's eyes seemed to look through her, seeing her soul instead of her skin.

Without a word, Harry quietly grabbed her hand and followed her down the stairs. If Relena was what a mother felt like, then maybe Noin was like an aunt and Dorothy was like a sister. Harry smiled to himself a little. Trowa's family was awfully disfunctional, but it still worked, somehow. And, for the first time, Harry felt that he might actually manage to fit in.**  
oOooOo**

Like most meals in the home of five-former-terrorists-one-former-OZ-special-and-one-formerly-neglected-child, dinner consisted of mass panic, disorder, and chaos. The three extra guests didn't change anything, except to make it worse, perhaps, but Harry didn't mind. It was nice to have company, but he was a little nervous around the girls. The only girl he really knew was Aunt Petunia, but Relena, Noin, and Dorothy were nothing like her. They were nice, and they liked him. Relena thought he was sweet, and Dorothy even offered to play video games with him after the meal.

Harry wondered if girls were any good at video games. Aunt Petunia had never played, and Harry wasn't sure if girls were _supposed_ to play video games anyway.

Following the girls up the stairs, Harry got his butt kicked by Dorothy _and_ Noin at several group battle games, and laughed as Quatre got his ass handed to him as well in a few more rounds. Dorothy was really good at it. She and Hiiro were usually the last two battling it out.

Although, in Hiiro's favor, he usually won.

Dorothy complained bitterly about it while they popped popcorn and put in a movie, and Harry decided to curl up next to Relena, with his head on her lap. She smiled and began to rub his back. "You like living with Trowa?" She asked, moving up to slowly rub his head.

"Yeah," Harry's eyes half closed. "He's great. Like a brother."

"Oh?"

"Uh huh. He listens to me, and he buys me stuff, and he's really nice. Not like a cousin at all."

"Maybe he really is like a cousin, hm? Maybe Dudley was just a jerk."

"Cousins are mean," Harry shook his head. "Trowa's really nice. And so is everyone else. Like brothers. And Hiiro said he'd teach me knife tricks, and they play with me, and take me to school and don't make me walk, and they feed me, and I have a bed and a bedroom and everything. I really, really want to stay."

"I'm glad you like it here," Relena bent to press a kiss to his soft hair. Harry gave a drowsy smile.

"I wish Trowa really was my brother," Harry admitted. "Then he couldn't send me back."

"I don't think he will, you know."

"I'm bad. He will when he learns I'm bad," Harry sniffed. "But I don't want to go back. I want to stay here. I really love Trowa. And Quatre. . . and Hiiro and Duo and Wu Fei and Zechs too."

Relena continued to gently stroke his hair, her smile sad. Harry had been through so much, and Trowa knew so little about being a family. If they could survive, they would be as close as anyone hoped, but Relena couldn't help but worry. What if they couldn't?**  
oOooOo**

"TROWA!" Harry's shout at three in the morning made Relena jerk awake and run from her room. Harry was practically in hysterics and all she could do was watch as Hiiro yanked his door open and gathered the boy in his arms while Trowa rushed from his own room moments later to take the blindly-reaching child from Hiiro. "Don't leave me!"

"Harry, Harry, I'm right here. Listen to me, green eyes. I'm. Right. Here." Trowa held him tightly, crooning at him and cooing, and Relena watched from her own door, stunned. Hiiro stepped toward her, pushing her gently back into her room.

"Is he like this often?" Relena asked, closing the door and moving to sit on her bed.

"This is his first nightmare here." Hiiro frowned. "Though I'm not sure what it means."

"Nightmares often show one's worst fears," Relena pointed out. "Maybe even Harry didn't realize how much he'd come to love Trowa. How much he wants to stay."

"I don't think that's it, Relena," Hiiro put an arm around her. "I'm not sure you can understand what it means to gain what Harry now has. I think. . . I think he finally realized just how much it scares him to think we would throw him away too."

"What does that mean?"

Hiiro shook his head, frowning slightly as he rose to leave. Trowa was still in the hall with his cousin, holding him and rocking him awkwardly, like Hiiro had seen mothers in the park do when their children fell. Trowa looked strange doing it, shifting in the hall with Harry's thin arms wrapped tightly around his neck, the boy's tears drenching Trowa's dark shirt. Hiiro bit his lip. Even the most basic of movements, like rocking a crying child, was difficult because none of the pilots had ever learned to do it. They had never been taught how to offer comfort.

"Is he all right?" Harry seemed to be mostly asleep, but Hiiro was speaking in Spanish, just in case.

"He's fine," Trowa smiled. "I'll put him to bed soon. It's just. . . kind of nice to hold him."

"Practice?" Hiiro teased softly.

Trowa stared at him for a moment, resting his chin on Harry's head as the child snuggled closer. "I. . . I don't know," The teen whispered, then disappeared into Harry's bedroom, leaving Hiiro staring after him before returning to his own.

Duo's bright eyes stared at him, gleaming in the darkness. "What are you thinking?"

"Trowa was rocking Harry." Hiiro frowned.

"That's good."

"It was. . . it was strange." Hiiro admitted. "Because we never had anyone to teach us things like that. He looked odd, doing it. It was just. . . strange. . . to think of us comforting anyone." He shrugged, letting Duo urge him to lay back on the bed.

"Maybe it's not so strange. We all have some capacity to care for children," Duo pointed out. "Or else none of them would survive."

"But can we?" Hiiro wrung his hands. "I'm so scared we'll do something wrong--"

"Hii-chan, listen to me." Duo put a hand over his lover's mouth. "Sister Helen used to say that you do the best you can. And that's what we'll do. Harry's a good kid. Even if we all make mistakes, we can do this."

Hiiro managed a smile and nodded, curling up against his lover. Duo was right. He had to be.**  
oOooOo**

Harry, despite his nightmare, woke early Saturday and headed to the kitchen. The kitchen was where everyone seemed to congregate, and that morning was no exception. Relena was already awake, alternately laughing and applauding at Hiiro's tricks in the kitchen, and she greeted Harry with a hug and kiss on the cheek. "Good morning, green eyes." She offered, smiling.

"Good morning," Harry smiled at her, letting her pull him onto her lap and resting his head on her shoulder. Hiiro offered him some orange juice, and Harry sipped at it slowly while the others trickled in. The boys had been out sparring, and Noin and Dorothy had taken the rare opportunity to sleep in. "Did you sleep good?" Harry asked the two women, who gave contented nods and happy sighs.

"No reporters," Dorothy sighed, rubbing her face.

"Or false alarms," Noin stretched. "Mm! Zechs, I want your security system. Maybe that'll get the reporters to stop sneaking in the house!"

"It's. . . well, it's not so much the _security_. . ." Zechs blushed. "Though it helps."

Relena's blue eyes lit up with a look bordering a descritption of unholy glee. "What did you do to them?"

"It was Hiiro's fault!" Duo immediately put in. Relena tapped her foot.

"We. . . ah. . . kind of fired on them a few times by accident when they woke us trying to sneak in." Quatre's cheeks were as red as Zechs.

"Did you hit them?"

"Nothing serious," Hiiro reported flatly, returning to the stove.

"Yeah, everyone knows they don't need their ears, you only have to have one kidney, and no one ever did figure out what the appendix was for." Duo smirked sadistically and Harry felt his jaw drop.

"You really shot them?"

"They startled us. And they know better." Trowa shook his head. "Harry, we would never shoot you. You're a child. Those reporters were adults and had been warned, numerous times, not to sneak up on us because it was dangerous. They refused to listen to our warning. Besides that, we know and trust you. We don't generally fire at people we love."

"Promise?" Harry chewed his lip.

"Promise." Trowa smiled and Relena winked at him.

"They haven't hit me yet." She smirked. "Which, I must say, is quite a feat."

"I think she's the only one that can actually sneak up on Hiiro." Duo snickered. "Outside of us, of course."

"I didn't sneak up on him," Relena protested. "It wasn't my fault he ignored me. I just walked over there!"

Hiiro blushed and ducked his head, obviously embaressed, and Harry giggled. Relena began to tell the story, to Hiiro's chagrin, and Harry's little gigle quickly turned into an all out laugh. Trowa gave a little snicker as Noin and Dorothy joined in with their own stories of the various hijinks the pilots managed to get into, both during and after the war. Duo hesitated a moment while he and Hiiro traded Looks, and then he began to tell about Relena's clifftop adventure.

"And then," Duo cackled, while Relena threw her napkin at him, "She starts yelling for Hiiro to come kill her!"

"You're such a ham, Duo," Relena growled playfully.

"Am I?" Duo grinned and wrapped his arms around her. "Tell me more!"

"Drama queen!"

"I'll have you know I was never queen of anything, Miss I'm-Queen-of-the-world," Duo gave her a little squeeze, and Relena smacked him upside the head.

"No, you were the God of Drama, not the God of Death," Relena shot back.

Duo clasped his hands over his chest. "Oh, you wound me, fair lady!"

Hiiro gave him a light shove and sent him to the ground. "Oh agony!" Duo continued to moan. "What ever shall I do? This cruel world is too cruel for my poor heart! Oh, woe is me! Woe is me!"

Hiiro gave a thoughtful frown, but it was Quatre that shoved the entire piece of toast into Duo's mouth. The long haired teen chewed and swollowed, then announced. "You totally could have buttered that first!"

Zechs groaned quitely and banged his head on the table while Noin patted his back and Wu Fei laughed. Harry laughed too, until tears ran down his face and he nearly fell out of Relena's lap. It felt so nice to laugh freely, since he couldn't ever remember doing it before. Uncle Vernon had hated it when he laughed, but Trowa didn't mind, and Harry just kept laughing and laughing until a calloused hand covered his mouth and concerned green eyes met his. "Calm down, green eyes," Trowa soothed, and Harry gave a little hiccup. "You can laugh more later."

Harry blinked at him and Quatre nodded. "You just held it in a little too long." He explained. "So it got away from you."

Harry, who had finally calmed, took a deep, unsteady breath and asked, "Laughs can do that?"

"Sometimes," Duo grinned. "We'll just have to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"With Duo around, I don't think it's an issue," Wu Fei smirked, and Relena gave a delighted laugh. She'd forgotten just how much she'd missed this banter until she could hear it again. Noin and Dorothy hid their own snickers. They'd forgotten, too.

"We are so going to have to come more often," Relena told Hiiro, still snickering. "I missed this."

Hiiro just rolled his eyes and put breakfast on the table. Relena had missed the insanity wrought by having six high-strung men in one house? Well, at least it was official. They now _all_ needed commited.**  
oOooOo**

Noin, Dorothy, and Relena had decided they wanted to see both the city of Bath and Stonehenge, and the pilots, who really had nothing better to do, agreed. Harry was thrilled, since he'd never really been outside of Little Whinging, and nearly drove all of them crazy running around and poking at things until Relena grabbed his hand and made him walk with her. Harry pouted for a few moments before settling down and enjoying the tour of the museums and asking dozens of questions.

"He's a regular scholor," Dorothy smirked, watching Wu Fei puff a little in pride. While Trowa was the only pilot Harry was actually related to, he was still "their boy" and they all took a great deal of pride in the child.

"Relena?" Harry tugged at her hand. "Can we go taste the water?"

"Taste it?"

"Uh huh," Harry pointed to the sign which offered a glass of the water for a half pound. Relena shrugged and the two of them bought a glass, staring at it uncertainly.

"You first," Relena offered, watching Harry examine the warm water.

"Maybe you should." Harry told her, sniffing at it. It smelled soft of like rust and was a little bubbly. It really didn't look very good, and there was a strange yellow tinge to it.

"Boys are suppsoed to be braver," Relena argued, holding the glass toward him.

"You're supposed to be really important," Harry managed to remember not to announce Relena's title. "I thought that made you brave."

"Just drink it already," Duo broke in, tipping the glass back and taking a long sip. "It's not poisoned. Geeze."

"Does it taste all right?" Harry chewed his lip, but took a drink, almost spitting it out. It tasted like metal! "Ew! That's gross! It tastes like metal! And it's hot!"

"That is sort of the point," Wu Fei's dark eyes were laughing slightly. "To have a warm bath."

"It's from an artesian well," Hiiro explained. "That's why it's bubbly. Pressure pushes it to the surface so you don't need a pump."

"But why does it taste like metal?" Harry wrinkled his nose as the glass finished its rounds and was set back on the counter, empty.

"It has iron in it," Relena explained. "From the earth. That's what the taste is from. And the yellow color is from all the minerals in it. It really doesn't taste good."

"I've had water like that before," Quatre mused, surprising them. He laughed softly. "Taste water in a tourist spot and it tastes just like water from the middle of nowhere. How funny!"

Harry giggled too, because Quatre's laugh was infectious, and Relena quickly joined in. Once Relena started, everyone else followed, and the conversation broke up from there as the ten of them made their way down the street in search of some food. They found a sandwhich shop, and Noin treated them to some large, gooey cookies, and then it was off toward Stonehenge for some more fun.

Harry stared at Stonehenge, green eyes wide in awe. It was huge and. . . and something more. Something Harry couldn't have put a name to, even if he had cared to try.

"It's so. . . mystical," Noin breathed, staring at the ages old stones. Harry nodded, still staring.

"It's even more than that," Quatre hands were pressed to his heart. "It feels. . . alive."

"Quatre?" Trowa looked worried, but Quatre just shook his head.

"The stone is so old that it holds echos of humanity," Quatre explained. "I can feel them, stretching through the ages. It's almost like the stones are breathing. I can feel the people that built them and the people that have studied them, and the ones that tried to destroy them. It's so incredible. To feel all that, from these stones."

"They're beautiful." Harry added, slightly breathless. He'd never seen the stones close up, but there was something almost drawing him to them. Like he wanted to get closer.

"We're allowed in the circle," Duo held up his pass. "I'd like a closer look. Just don't touch them. We want them to be around for future generations to gawk at."

Quatre laughed and crossed the rope that seperated them from the stones, Harry grabbed Trowa's hand and following close behind. The girls paused for a moment before moving so the rest of the pilots waited for them. When Quatre and Harry passed the first circle of stones, Quatre gave a loud cry and went to his knees, clutching at his heart. Harry, terrified for Quatre, grabbed his arm.

The world went white.

Harry and Quatre were engulfed in voices and images that blurred past, people dancing and singing, screams of terror as black-robed men in white masks mowed them down with strange attacks that lit the world up with an eerie, green glow. A snake-like man was hissing something that made Harry scream and a woman knelt to protect her child. A man with green eyes grabbed the woman and raced away from the stone circle when a green light cut him down. The woman screamed but didn't stop running, shoving the child in a small niche in the stones and telling him to stay there until it was safe.

And then she was running again.

The boy, only about three, screamed when she was cut down with the same, strange green light. Someone found the little niche, pointing a stick at the child's head. The boy continued to scream and cry as the man said something and the entire world went black.

"Harry! Quatre!" Trowa barely caught their limp bodies as they fell, frantically looking from his boyfriend to his cousin. The rest of the group raced over, the other pilots, Noin, and Dorothy fanning out in case of danger. Trowa and Relena frantically began checking vitals and then did the only thing they could. They called an ambulance and waited.

Before the ambulance arrived, both boys were stirring, and Harry screamed, grabbing Trowa tightly. "Don't let them hurt him!"

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Trowa held him, trying to sooth him. Harry sobbed and clung.

"The little boy! Don't let them hurt him!" Harry begged. Trowa finally forced Harry to look around. There was no boy. There were no men in white masks. Harry sniffed, looking confused. "What happened? Where is the boy and the all the masked people?"

"It was a vision, Harry," Quatre was awake and rubbing his head, thanking Wu Fei for helping him up while Trowa was otherwise occupied. "I think. . . I'm not the only one with a few powers."

"Powers?" Harry rubbed his eyes. "I don't understand!"

"I'm empathic, Harry. I know how people feel. Sometimes when I get into an area like this, with high emotions, I get visions of the emotions. It doesn't happen much." Quatre sighed.

"But I can't feel other people." Harry gave a confused frown.

"I think you can see echos of the past when you touch things. Especially places like this that are highly emotionally charged." Quatre stood, brushing off his clothes. "I think it's best for us to leave."

"But the little boy!" Harry protested, darting from Trowa's arms. Trowa, not expecting it, blinked in shock before moving to chase Harry. The boy found the little niche the woman had shoved the child into, and glanced inside, brows furrowing. "He was _here_. I swear!"

"It was a memory, Harry," Trowa knelt by the boy and frowned. This niche. . . why was it so familier?

"What's that?" Harry reached inside, pulling out a scrap of blanket. The other pilots crowded around, frowning. It looked like a baby-blanket, one that had probably gone with the child everywhere. Trowa's eyes widened.

"Hugo?" Harry read off the scrap, frowning. The pattern was barely recognizable, the cloth ragged.

"It's mine. . ." Trowa sat down hard, still staring at the scrap in Harry's fist.

"Trowa?"

"That's mine! I had a blanket like that for a very long time," Trowa explained. "I never knew where it came from, the Mercenaries always through it was from my family. That's why they never gave me a name. Well, partly. Partly because they were too lazy, but partly because they didn't want to get attached because they thought my family would find me. I think, anyway. Some of that is a little fuzzy. But. . . that's mine. Part of my blanket, anyway."

Harry stared at the scrap for a moment longer, then handed it to Trowa, unsure of what to do with it. Hiiro handed the taller man a plastic bag that Trowa dropped it into and then passed it to Zechs. They had some tests to run. And maybe, in the process, they'd learn what happened to Trowa's parents as well.**  
oOooOo**

The rest of the weekend past smoothly, and Harry was sort of sad when Relena, Noin, and Dorothy left. He liked having girls around the house, sometimes, he thought. It was nice to be mothered a little, and Relena had been more than happy to oblige. When Harry had worried that he was being too much trouble, Relena had laughed.

"You are part of my family," She explained, kissing his cheek. "The pilots are all like my brothers, and Noin is my sister. Dorothy is just my best friend, though. But I bet she'd be part of your family, too. So we can all be family, right? You'll be my little cousin too, since Trowa's like my brother."

"Can I really?"

"You can be my brother, if you'd like." Relena smiled. "I bet Trowa would love to have another brother, not just a cousin."

"You think so?"

"Even if she doesn't, I do." Trowa's soft voice made Harry start, but he smiled brightly.

"So. . . So. . . Now I have six brothers and. . . and three sisters!"

"More like. . . five sisters." Relena laughed. "You just haven't met the last two, yet."

Harry blinked at her, then giggled. "I have a really, really big family!" His delighted smile made Relena laugh outright and hug him tightly as they said their final good-byes. Relena needed to get home to do some work, and the other two were eager to head back as well, though for different reasons. According to Dorothy, they were holding someone that had attempted to break into Relena's home. Noin and Dorothy--fces alight with somewhat sadistic glee--had first dibs on interrogating the perpatrator.

Hiiro offered a gift of some kind to Dorothy, who grinned even more malicious, and then they were gone, Relena waving to Harry until they'd disappeared from sight. Harry stared up at Trowa for a minute, then hugged him tightly. "Thank you lots and lots. . . big brother." He murmured, and Trowa hugged him back.

"You're welcome, green eyes." Trowa whispered, lifting him up. "Now, lets get some supper."

Harry laid his head on Trowa's shoulder, and smiled.**  
oOooOo**


End file.
